The Gift
by TheKnittingLady
Summary: When an alien race gives a gift to the people of earth things will change around the BAU.
1. Chapter 1

A gift consists not in what is done or given, but in the intention of the giver or doer.

Lucius Annaeus Seneca

* * *

.

* * *

 **Chapter 01**

 **Fall 2004**

Aliens **.**

Aliens was not what people expected when they went into work that morning. Aliens were rather surprising.

What should not have surprised people was when the aliens didn't do what they always did in the movies.

The large mothership de-cloaked in orbit, up by the moon, just like everyone expected. Every government in the world panicked, just as everyone expected. The aliens send down a shower of smaller ships, just as expected. And they entered the atmosphere and started hovering, just as expected.

But everyone expected them to hover over major urban centers, to start broadcasting threats or offered of peace, or something.

They didn't.

The one over North America made its way to a patch of grassland in the middle of nowhere, South Dakota. And it proceeded to hover there, a malignant shape over the prairie, calmly ignoring the jackrabbits that hopped about underneath.

The US sent the Air Force in first, of course. They would have done so with the agreement of their nearest neighbors, if the US military ever really gave a damn. They quickly discovered the force shield that cut out the engine of any plane that came too near. But the planes didn't crash; they just glided to a safe distance. Once there their engines came on again. There was some talk of shooting something in their general direction, but cooler heads prevailed. After all, the aliens were just sitting there.

Of course they weren't just sitting there over a patch of South Dakota. They were also just sitting over a patch of Siberia, over a patch Mongolia, over a patch of the Pampas, over the African savanna. In all the major areas of the world the aliens hovered over a large, flat plane of nowhere.

But only in North America were they not left alone.

Everywhere else people were content to watch the aliens on the nearest screen, trusting news crews standing at a safe distance and government reports to tell them what was going on. But in North America, fueled by hundreds of sci-fi stories and thousands of conspiracies a significant chunk of the civilian population wanted to welcome them personally. Caravans headed out in the direction of Mud Butte to welcome them with signs and costumes and campers held together with duct tape and easy credit.

There was general agreement among the North American Powers That Be that this was not a good idea. It would be better to keep the civilians away until they learned what the aliens wanted. So they sent in the military, which set up under and around the spaceship, out on the prairie.

Where they sat watching the aliens.

Who weren't doing anything.

* * *

"What do you think they're doing out there?" Elle asked.

It was the third day after the aliens arrival, the first day the BAU had been able to breathe and reflect after catching the Arizona arsonist with OCD. Now they were all sitting in the bullpen, drinking bad coffee and watching the news. For the next few days no one was going to be catching any Unsubs. Odds were they were watching the news too.

"As Gideon would say, we don't have enough for a profile." JJ replied.

"It's creepy is what it is." Morgan said.

"They might be coming in peace." Spencer replied. "Their intentions might be benign, even helpful."

"I'll believe that when I see it."

* * *

It was another four days before the aliens announced their intentions.

As the world watched another, smaller craft detached itself from the mothership. It entered the atmosphere and slowly made its way to the surface.

It landed.

It landed in the heart of New York City. Just like all the movies said.

It landed directly in front of the UN.

As the world watched a door opened and aliens ran out.

It was hard to tell their height, their size. They were pale, with large heads and large eyes. They were bipedal, more or less humanoid, but they seemed to prefer to move quickly on all fours. They made their way into the UN building, at least twenty of them, moving quickly in and around people who were too shocked at the sight to even panic.

One guard, panicked at the sight, got a shot off without thinking. It bounced off some sort of shield around one of the aliens, who scampered up to him and slapped the gun from his hand. Then it shook its head, admonishing him before it scampered away with the others.

The aliens poured into the General Assembly chamber before anyone could stop them, jumping over the tables and around the terrified delegates, until they reached the front of the room. They slowed there, milling about, until one of them slowly climbed his way up to the front. It looked out over the room as it placed its front hands or paws on the podium. And then, as the world watched, a mouth opened under it's eyes and it spoke.

 _People of this planet. We have watched you for the past one hundred of your years. We address you in this manner as our observations have shown that this is the manner in which you address each other in a way that is peace._

 _We wish to welcome you to join those of us who live among the stars._

 _We have wished this for one hundred of your years. We have watched and waited for you to be ready. Your people are close to readiness now. We wish to extend the hand of friendship to you to make the last steps to join us._

 _But you are not ready. There is an evil among you. It stops you from reaching the hand we offer. It stops you from reaching the stars._

 _This evil is taboo to our kind. We may not speak of this evil so great. But it must be stopped before you can take your place among us._

 _We bring you a gift. With this gift you will be able to eradicate this evil. Within one hundred more of your years this evil will be gone from you and you will be ready to take that last step._

 _Today we give you this gift. One hundred years from this day we will return to this place. It is our greatest wish that you will be ready at that time._

 _For now we leave you in peace. Farewell._

The speaker stared out at the assembly for a long moment. Then he dropped back to all fours. At that the entire delegation, for that is what it had to be, ran out of the chamber. They ran back to their ship, which lifted off and headed back for the mothership.

As if a signal was given the hovering ships all around the world lit up. Then they rose up as one, and returned to their mothership.

They watched it fly away into the darkness between the stars.

* * *

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* * *

 **Notes** – Just to reassure everyone, I am still working on the epic-length story rated MA I'm publishing over at AO3, and I will be continuing to update that twice a week as I go. But I know a lot of people out there prefer to avoid MA rated stories, especially ones with very strong adult themes and explicit sexual situations, so I had some free time on my hands and decided to crank out a quick rated T sci-fi story just for the readers here. Rated T means no explicit descriptions of sex or violence, any scenes like that are implied not described.

That said I'll be honest up front. Spencer gets a boyfriend in this one. Why? Because I've written him with 21 original female characters, one crossover and JJ and I want to try something new to see if I can pull it off. But like I said, no explicit descriptions of sex or violence, if that helps at all.

This is set in seasons 1 & 2 until Prentiss joins the team. In order to fit in some real world events I had to play with the timeline a little. You can assume cannon order to the cases but I had to spread them out over a longer amount of time to get it to work. That said they really don't come up all that much, this happens in between things and at least one event happens out of order, but it will make sense with the story.

I hope you all enjoy this one.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 02**

 **BAU Headquarters  
Quantico, VA**

 **Fall 2005**

"So what the hell was this gift?" Morgan asked.

"No clue." Elle replied. "I guess we'll know soon enough."

But the first one who had any clue was Garcia. Three weeks later she met them all at the coffee machine in the morning, brimming over with gossip. "So there is this creepy rumor going out over the internet." She said.

"About what?" Elle asked

"The aliens."

"Come one. They're gone." Morgan said. "Let the world get back to normal."

"What's the rumor?" JJ asked.

"That they're rounding up everyone who was anywhere near that thing when it took off." Garcia replied. "And locking them all away somewhere."

"I don't buy it." Morgan said.

"Me neither." Elle agreed.

"My team." Hotch called out, ending the conversation. "We're briefing on the plane, wheels up ASAP."

And that would be the first sign that something was not right. The second were the military officers on the screen once they got in the air. "What's going on?" Morgan asked.

"Lance Corporal Jorge Mendoza, 20, from Escondito, California, gone AWOL out of Camp Pendleton." Colonel Chatman replied. "Homeland Security matter, we have reason to believe he's gone over to the other side and taken some materiel with him."

"Other side?" Elle asked.

"He's converted and become a terrorist."

"Why do you think that?" Gideon asked.

"Some of the evidence we've found on his computer. We had it translated for you, sent it to your tech."

"We need to see the originals." Hotch said.

"We can send those as well."

"What did he take?" Gideon asked.

"That's classified."

"Then how are we supposed to get it back?"

"We just need to find him. That's all."

"We'll need access to his teammates and his quarters." Hotch said.

"Of course. It'll all be waiting when you arrive."

They spoke for a few more before the line closed. "Does this smell hinky to anyone else?" Morgan asked.

No one answered. They didn't have to.

 **MCB Camp Pendleton  
San Diego, CA**

They made Mendoza's fireteam and buddies available for interviews. "He came to hate this country." One of the guys said to Hotch and JJ. "Ever since his uncle was deported or something."

"It was all politics with him." Another said to Morgan and Elle. "He hated the way this country is going. He thought the ragheads had a good idea going, getting a country right with god and all that."

"He started listening to the preachers on our last deployment." A third said to Gideon and Spencer. "They got in his head. We shouldn't be over there, that kind of thing. I guess this is what happens. It's sad."

Into each conversation they slipped the same question. "What did he like to drink?"

Each time the reaction was the same, honest confusion. And the answer was the same. "He's under 21. He doesn't drink."

Whoever was asking gave the interviewee one of those looks and asked again.

"I don't know. Beer."

"What brand?"

"Bud, I guess."

"Okay."

When it was all over Gideon went to the officer in charge. "We're going to need to talk to his family."

The family's behavior was different. Where the Marines were cool and confident these people were nervous, even scared. But the answers they gave were the same. He hated this country, hated the politics, got won over on his last deployment.

Until Gideon asked the brother just older than him what his brother liked to drink. "Bohemia." He replied easily.

"Uh huh."

The mother was the one who finally broke down to Elle. "Por favor, encontrad a mi hijo." She begged as the tears started to flow

"Estamos tratando." Elle replied. _We're trying to._

"Es un buen chico. Él no es así. Nos obligaron" _He's a good boy. He's not like this. They make us._

"¿A qué se refiere?" _What do you mean?_

"Nos obligaron a decir eso. Dijeron que si no lo hacemos nos enviarán a la cárcel a todos nosotros. Hasta a los bebés." _They make us say these things. They say if we don't they send us to prison, all of us. Even the babies._ Mrs. Mendoza kept weeping. "¡Mi hijo ama este país! ¡Está orgulloso de ser un Marine! ¡Nunca haría las cosas de las que lo acusan, nunca!" _My son loves this country! He is proud of being a Marine! He would never do these things they say, never!_

"Okay, shhh." Elle patted her hand. "Le ayudaremos. Haremos lo que podamos" _We'll help him. We'll do what we can._ She turned to the two way mirror and made the high sign to Gideon, who met her just inside the door. When she came back she had one question. "¿A dónde iría Jorge si estuviese en problemas y no supiera qué hacer _?" Where would Jorge go if he was in trouble and didn't know what to do?_

"A ver a mi sobrino, su primo, el Padre Martin." _To my nephew, his cousin, Father Martin._

"¿Es un sacerdote?" _He's a priest?_

"Sí, en Santa María" _Yes. St. Mary's._

"Muy bien"

They met quietly, quickly, before Hotch sent them on their way. "Go." He said. "Find out what's going on. Gideon and I will run interference."

"You got it." Morgan said. Then he led Elle, JJ and Spencer away.

By now night had fallen. Thanks to Morgan's driving experience they were able to shake the tails they had on them when they left the base. "What is going on?" JJ asked.

"They're covering up something." Elle said. "Those weren't Mendoza's buddies. No way a close bunch like a fire team wouldn't know what beer he asked for."

"They were lying." Morgan agreed. "You could see them get nervous the moment we went off script."

"The question is, what are they covering up?" Spencer said.

"That's the question."

"You were supposed to tell us where to find him!" Colonel Chatman raged. "Not go after him!"

"You don't have clearance to work inside the borders." Hotch replied. "You would have had to send the FBI after him anyway."

"And we don't appreciate being lied to." Gideon added.

"You have no idea!" They could see it now, Chatman's façade was cracking. He was terrified. "You have no idea what you've done!" He turned and nearly ran down another hallway. Hotch and Gideon followed, closely enough to get through security with him. They found themselves in another part of the complex, in what looked like a crisis room. Something was being monitored in real time. "I need to get a lock on those FBI agents." Chatman said. "GPS off their phones, Lojack their vehicle, satellite, I don't care just find them."

"Colonel, what is going on?" Hotch asked, his calm betraying his anger.

"Have Bio Team 1 ready to deploy." Chatman said to his people.

"Bio Team?" Gideon asked.

"You have no clue what we're dealing with here." Chatman replied. "Where are they?"

 **St. Mary's Church rectory  
Escondido, CA**

By now it was late. And in this working class neighborhood it was quiet. Hopefully they could get in and out before anyone saw anything.

They took up positions to cover as much ground as they could before Morgan went to knock on the door. He was polite to the man in the Roman collared shirt who answered, but spoke through the screen door. Father Martin?"

"Yes."

"Derek Morgan, FBI. We're looking for Jorge Mendoza."

"He's not in here."

"Look, we know he's in trouble. We just want to help him."

Fr. Martin studied him for a moment. "I believe you. But he left a few moments ago."

Damn it. "Can you tell us where he was going?"

"No. He didn't tell me, to protect me."

"Did he say what was going on?"

Father Martin nodded. "In confession." The priest looked troubled. "And now I must go make mine as well. If you are a faithful man I suggest you do the same."

"Why?"

But all Father Martin did was say a blessing over them, and close the door.

"What is going on?" Elle asked when they regrouped.

"Aliens." A male voice replied. Then he coughed.

They spun, weapons out, to find a young Hispanic man with a Marine haircut coming around the corner of the garage. His face looked a little swollen, a little flushed, even from where they were they could see the shine of moisture around his eyes and nose. And he had a handgun. "FBI!" Morgan said as the others fanned out to present less of a target. "Drop your weapon!"

"I can't do that." Jorge said. "I'm sorry."

He wasn't threatening them with it, so they started trying to talk him down. "We just want to help you Jorge." Elle said. "We know they were lying to us."

"Doesn't surprise me." Jorge cleared his throat, coughed again. Then he sneezed. "They're trying to pen us up. Rats in a cage. I know what's going to happen. Know what I got to do. I just wanted to get to confession first, you know. Get right with God."

"Just tell us what's going on." JJ said. "Maybe we can help you."

"No one can help me. No one can help any of us now." He coughed again

Us. "Look, we met a bunch of guys, but they weren't your buddies. Where's your unit, do you know?"

"Yeah, they stuck them in quarantine early this morning." Jorge looked him dead in the eye. "They ain't getting out."

"Quarantine?" Spencer asked.

"Yeah, man." He sneezed several times. "Son of a..."

Spencer holstered his weapon and put his hands up, hoping for trust. "Did you go anywhere else but here today?" He asked.

"I stopped for gas, got some Mickey D's. Why?" Jorge sneezed again. Then his eyes went wide. "Oh shit, man! Oh shit!" He panicked

"Look, it's going to be okay." Spencer said. "We'll call Colonel Chatman and..."

"No man, it's too late for that! We're all going to die! And it's all because of me!"

"You don't know that."

"Yeah I do. Look at me man. I saw my abuelo die. Cancer. Took him weeks, in the hospital all those tubes. No dignity in that." Jorge shook his head. "I'm not going to go like some lab rat." He closed his eyes and started praying.

"Reid! What's going on?" Elle asked. There was the sound of sirens in the distance.

"Spence?" JJ asked.

Spencer's hands shook as his brain ran faster than his mouth could process. LAPD was pulling up, Likely alerted by someone in the neighborhood. "Jorge, where was your last deployment?"

The locals say the guns and came out with their own ready. "LAPD! Drop the weapon!"

Jorge opened his eyes. "We were guarding that ship." He sneezed. "Now it's too late for us. All of us. And I ain't gonna be no lab rat." He pointed his gun at the cop car.

"Wait!" Morgan called out.

"No, don't!" Spencer screamed.

Jorge's gun fired.

The cops shot back.

The wind was blowing toward the agents.

They were all splattered.

"Ew!" JJ said as she went to wipe the blood from her cheek.

"Damn it!" Morgan said. He wiped off his own face. "Reid, what was that?"

Spencer was wide eyed, dotted in misted blood. "The aliens left a gift." He said.

They turned as the sound of more sirens started swelling in the distance.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 03**

 **MCB Camp Pendleton  
San Diego, CA**

 **Fall 2004**

Anyone who knew Aaron Hotcher knew he was furious right now. "A virus?"

But the doctor he was speaking to, Dr. Marsden, either didn't know that, or didn't care. "Apparently that's the 'gift' the aliens left us. The Marines on the ground reported what felt like a cold fog or mist the morning the ship took off. At the time we thought it was a natural weather phenomenon. Now we think it was deliberate. It might be nothing. So far not everyone exposed has become sick. And those who have are showing fairly mild symptoms. But for safety's sake we want to keep this contained until we know what we're dealing with."

"You should have warned us."

Dr. Marsden sighed. "That wasn't my call." She said.

"So what happens now?" Gideon asked.

"Quarantine with everyone else."

"How long?"

"From what we can tell there's a three week incubation period. We'll be able to determine if they've been exposed within 24 hours, but it will take three weeks to see if they can fight it off or not. If they can't then they're contagious until the infection runs its course."

"How long does that take?" Hotch asked.

"So far everyone who's come down sick is still sick, but it's only been 36 hours."

"What does it look like?" Gideon asked.

"Like a common cold. Mild fever, stuffy nose, sneezing, running eyes, slight cough with minor lung congestion. More annoying than anything. But it looks to be a lot more virulent than even the cold, the virus can stay active on surfaces for, well, we haven't seen it die off yet. And nothing we throw at it kills it."

"And you're sure it's alien?" Hotch asked.

"Yes. We've torn it apart in the lab, that virus was not made here on Earth."

"Maybe we can help." Gideon said.

"How?" Dr. Marsden asked.

"Profile their intentions by looking at their creation."

"Do any of you have a background in microbiology?"

"Reid has a background in everything."

* * *

"Whatever this is, it's out." Morgan said.

The team had been decontaminated, much to everyone's displeasure. Now they were in quarantine. On the plus side, the four of them had their own floor in the quarantine barracks. They were already setting up the common room to be comfortable. At least they would have something to do that way. But first, debriefing. "What do you mean?" Colonel Chatman asked.

"Mendoza stopped for gas. He stopped at a McDonald's. According to Father Martin he went to mass."

"Goddamn it!"

"It might just be another version of a common cold." Dr. Marsden said. "I still think it's too soon to panic."

"Well whatever it is we have about three weeks to figure it out before it spreads all over the country!"

* * *

It wasn't so much that Spencer knew everything, the team came to realize over the next few days. It was just that he processed everything so _fast_. "It's based on age." He said a week later.

They were having a meeting, one of the daily update briefings. The Quarantined BAU team was sitting in over a video link from their makeshift office. The scientists had more or less designated Spencer the official spokesperson since the military didn't intimidate him. "Age?" Colonel Chatman asked.

"Yes. Everyone over roughly 25 seems to be able to fight it off before it becomes infectious."

"How can this thing tell how old you are?"

"It looks like it tracks with growth hormone levels." Spencer had a chart on a white board. "At birth most humans are born with growth hormone levels right around 1800 picomoles to liter of blood. At maturity men drop to 225, women to 450. We know that everyone exposed shows signs of infection. Dormant endospores appear in the bloodstream, in a manner similar to Anthrax." Now he drew a line down the chart. "In everyone under 550 picomoles of growth hormone per liter of blood the endospores remain dormant. In everyone over 550 picomoles after about three weeks the endospores open up and the virus enters the bloodstream. Within 24 hours the virus has multiplied enough to begin shedding into the environment, and we start seeing symptoms."

"And this thing spreads like the common cold?"

"Yes. Only it lasts for up to seven days on surfaces so far and nothing we throw at it will kill it." Dr. Marsden replied. "Symptoms also last five to seven days, and so far appear to clear up on their own with no harm to the patient."

"And there are no lasting effects?"

"We don't know yet. In mature patients after four weeks from what we can tell the endospores clear out of the blood stream. At the moment everyone at that stage are showing clear blood tests. In younger patients who have already developed the disease the virus remain in the blood and passes through the blood brain barrier. We've found it in cerebral-spinal fluid samples."

"So it infects the brain?"

"Yes, sir."

"And what does it do there?"

"From what we can tell so far, nothing. No one is showing any adverse symptoms at all. It just seems to be sitting there."

"So what are your recommendations?"

"At this point we want to give it another week of observation. If the mature patients are still showing clean blood work they can be released from quarantine. Assuming no secondary symptoms appear the younger patients can be released as well, but they should remain under outpatient observations, say a weekly check-in. And I don't know for how long."

"Do you think this is going to develop into a public health crisis?"

"At the moment?" Dr. Marsden shook her head. "No."

"Yes it is." Gideon said.

The room was quiet a moment. "Why do you say that?" Colonel Chatman asked.

"This thing passes like a cold, you touch an infected surface and then you touch your face. It resembles a cold, you can't tell if it's this or just the annual bug. And it infects people under 25." Gideon was quiet a moment. "They said it was a gift, something to transform our population within four generations. This thing was designed to infect the next generation as quickly as possible. This was designed to infect children."

* * *

"Please tell me there's some good news." Morgan said

"Some." Dr. Marsden said. "It looks like you and Agent Greenaway are in the clear. Your hormone levels are too low for the endospores to open. They're already clearing out of your bloodstream."

"What about me and Spence?" JJ asked

"I'm sorry Agent Jareau, you came up at 622. Dr. Reid, you're sitting on 730." Spencer groaned and flopped back on the bunk. Dr. Marsden winced. "Sorry."

"I do not want this. How many days?"

"You should start showing symptoms in about ten days now."

"Great."

"If it's any consolation I'm going there too." JJ said.

"You two can share a hospital room." Elle replied.

"Can we get off quarantine?" Morgan asked.

"Likely in the next few days."

After the doctor left JJ flopped on to the bed next to Spencer. "You okay Spence?"

"No." He already had schizophrenia hanging over his head. Now this. "I'm actually terrified."

"So am I."

* * *

The next week, six weeks after the aliens left, two weeks after the sickness started, a week after it passed, quarantine was lifted for the Marines exposed. None of them were showing any signs of being contagious, even as carriers. There was no reason to keep them all penned up any longer.

48 hours later the first set of secondary symptoms started. "He started having some kind of seizure." The men said when Dr. Marsden ran into the barracks room.

Dr. Marsden looked at the man who writing on the floor, begging for it to stop. Brisco, she noted the name, Lance Corporal, 22. "Get him to medical." She ordered the ones who came with him. "When did this start?"

"About five minutes ago." One of Brisco's buddies said.

"The seizure did." Another said. "He's been acting strange all day."

"Strange how?"

"He kept saying he was scared of something. Said it felt like something bad was going to happen, like something was coming after him. We were sitting here watching the movie and he said 'It's here! It's happening!' then he hollered out and fell on the floor."

"Great." She sighed. "Hate to say it but you're all confined to barracks until we figure this out."

"Is Brisco going to be okay?" One asked.

"I hope so."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 04**

 **MCB Camp Pendleton  
San Diego, CA**

 **Fall 2004**

Three weeks to the day after being splattered with the blood of a man infected with an alien virus Spencer Reid woke up, rolled over, and realized he felt awful.

He sat up slowly. He felt achy all over. His nose was dripping, his eyes were running and itchy, his head was starting to feel stuffed, and there was a faint burbling in his lungs. Viremia, he thought, the virus is loose in me and my immune system is fighting it off. With a groan he flopped back into his bed.

A few minutes later there was a knock on his door. Given that it was just him and JJ they had been moved to adjoining observation rooms in the base hospital. Now JJ slipped into his room, still bundled in her bathrobe. "You too, huh?" She asked.

"I don't think I've ever been so scared in my life." Spencer admitted. "I wonder if we'll end up like Brisco."

"I dunno." JJ replied. "So far no one else has. Maybe it's just him."

"Maybe."

* * *

Brisco, meanwhile, was not doing too badly, at least on this particular morning. He'd had a second seizure a few days before. Unlike the first this one was not preceded by several hours of 'aura', or a growing feeling of fear and paranoia. Like the first this one started with him clutching his face and falling to the ground, screaming, where he huddled in a fetal position and twitched. "If I didn't know any better." He said about both of them, "I'd swear someone was beating the crap out of me."

Every other infected Marine in the unit was fine. No adverse symptoms. They'd had a cold, they got over it, that's all. But looking deeper into Brisco led to an interesting observation. "What is it?" Colonel Chatman asked.

"Well, it's interesting." Dr. Marsden said. "In each individual the virus mutates slightly. The RNA, or what we assume is RNA, is identical when it first leaves the endospore, but in the samples we've taken 48 hours later it's different. Except we have two that match."

"Assume is RNA?"

"It doesn't look like RNA, even though it's located like RNA. It looks like something, we just can't figure out what."

"Okay, which two?"

"Brisco and Cargill."

"Get Cargill in for more testing."

* * *

Lance Corporal Marissa Cargill was 19. She appeared perfectly poised, calm, even cool during questioning. No, she hadn't had any strange symptoms. No feelings of dread. No missing time. No seizures that she or any of her buddies had noticed. She hadn't found anything at all.

Gideon, watching with the rest of the team from the other side of the glass, noticed something. "She's nervous." He said. "She's controlling it but it's there."

"Yes, she is." Hotch agreed. "But not of anyone here. She's covering something."

"Order her to take her makeup off." Elle said.

"Why?" Gideon asked.

"They were in quarantine a long time. Call it a hunch."

They passed word to the medical personnel. At the order Cargill froze. She got that deer in the headlights look they always got when they were caught out. The order was repeated. Ever so slowly Cargill slid off the exam table and went to the sink. But once there she stopped. "He's a good man, he really is."

"Son of a bitch." Morgan said.

Sure enough, once her makeup was off Cargill had one hell of a shiner. Couple of other bruises as well. When she took her top off more were revealed. "He's just been under so much stress." She said. "With the quarantine and everything. And he didn't know what was going on..."

"Lance Corporal Brisco?" The med tech asked.

"No." Cargill said. "Brisco's a real sweetheart. He's always been nice to me. No...um..." She sighed. "PFC Stevens. It's just that we were apart for so long..."

"Ask her when Stephens beat her." Gideon said.

The question was relayed. "Um, a couple of nights after we got out of quarantine." Cargill said. "He didn't know what had been going on and he thought..."

"When else?" The tech asked.

"Three nights ago. Something happened at work, I wasn't expecting it. Normally he's a real sweet guy..."

"Hello Battered Women's Syndrome." Elle said.

"But how does this relate to the virus?" Morgan asked. "And if Brisco didn't do this how did they end up with the same mutation?"

There was silence for a moment. Then they saw the light of understanding grow on Gideon's face. He looked like he might have seen heaven. "They gave us a gift." He said. "A wonderful gift."

"What gift?" Hotch asked.

"I'll show you."

* * *

An hour later Gideon had everyone working on the problem in one conference room. There were two screens up. On one Brisco was sitting on an exam table, wired in to every sensor they could manage. On the other Cargill was the same. "They're in separate rooms." Gideon said. "You can't hear what's going on in one room in the other."

"All right." Chatman said. "So now what."

Gideon opened the line. "Go ahead Morgan."

As they watched Morgan went in with Brisco. "So what's this test?" Brisco asked.

Morgan stepped around behind him. "Take your shirt off, please." He said

Brisco sighed and pulled off his t-shirt. Without warning Morgan pressed the device he was carrying to Brisco's shoulder. It was a miniature stun gun, one set to a level that would cause pain, not disable.

The moment Morgan touched Brisco with it the younger man let out a yell, pulled away and clutched his shoulder in pain.

And so did Cargill. Even though she was alone in the room.

"What the hell was that?" Brisco asked.

"Let you know in a minute." Morgan said. Then he left the room.

A minute later Elle went in with Cargill. "I just felt this awful pain." Cargill told her.

"Oh? Where?"

"In my shoulder."

"Here?" With that Elle hit her with a stun gun.

As before Cargill screamed out, jumped away, and grabbed her shoulder.

So did Brisco. But he was alone in his room.

"What are we seeing?" Chatman asked.

"Oh my god." One of the scientists said. They turned to find scans of the virus going up on other screens in the room. "That's what it is. They're transmitters. Ultra-miniaturized transmitters lodged in their brain tissue."

"Transmitters?" Chatman asked.

"Ever hear of the ACE study?" Gideon asked in reply.

"No."

"The Adverse Childhood Experiences Study is a research study conducted by the Kaiser Permanente HMO and the CDC. It demonstrated an association of adverse childhood experiences, ACEs, with health and social problems as an adult. They interviewed about 26,000 consecutive Kaiser members. The study was notable because so many of us equate childhood abuse with poor, uneducated, let's admit it, brown people. Kaiser is an HMO that works with the IT industry, as a result they were able to control for those assumptions. About half were female; 75% were white; the average age was 57; 75% had attended college; all had jobs and good health care. Participants were asked about 10 types of childhood trauma that had been identified in earlier research literature: physical abuse, sexual abuse, emotional abuse, physical neglect, emotional neglect, mother treated violently, household substance abuse, household mental illness, parental separation or divorce, and incarcerated household member. Each trauma in your childhood got you an ACE point. The number of ACEs was strongly associated with adulthood high-risk health behaviors such as smoking, alcohol and drug abuse, promiscuity, and severe obesity, and correlated with ill-health including depression, heart disease, cancer, chronic lung disease and shortened lifespan. Compared to an ACE score of zero, having four adverse childhood experiences was associated with a seven-fold increase in alcoholism, a doubling of risk of being diagnosed with cancer, and a four-fold increase in emphysema; an ACE score above six was associated with a 30-fold increase in attempted suicide"

"So?" Chatman asked.

Gideon smiled. "They gave us a gift. Watch." He turned to the staff. "Get them in here. Stevens too."

A few minutes later Brisco, Cargill and Stevens were brought in, with Stevens under guard. "We figured it out." Gideon said. "We know what's going on."

"Great." Brisco said. "What?"

Gideon pointed to him and Cargill. "You two are linked somehow. The virus is acting as a transmitter. It's transmitting your emotional states and even some physical sensations to the other. Look." He played back the recording of the experiment they just performed.

When he was done Brisco and Cargill looked at each other. You didn't have to be a profiler to see the wonder in their eyes. "Okay, but what caused those seizures?" Brisco asked.

"Stevens over here was beating Cargill." Gideon told him. "You were feeling the beating along with her, the fear of the approaching assault, the actual attack, all of it."

It took a minute for it to sink in. But then Brisco's reaction was quick once it did. "You son of a bitch!" He said. Then he threw the first punch.

The fight was short, Brisco had a good five inches and forty pounds on Stevens, and there were enough people there to pry him apart, not that anyone moved as fast as they could. "You lay a hand on her again and I will fucking kill you!" Brisco told him.

"She's my girlfriend!" Stevens replied. "Back the fuck off!"

"That doesn't make her your fucking punching bag you piece of shit!" Brisco looked at Cargill, their eyes meeting once more. "She deserves better than you."

"Hey! Hey!" Gideon broke it up. "Get them out in the hall, let them finish it there." The cluster of Marines pulled the trio out of the room. Gideon watched them go. "That is the gift they gave us."

"I don't..." Chatman started

But Gideon stopped him. "Cargill is nineteen." He said. "Imagine Brisco's reaction if she was nine."

"Abusers want privacy." Hotch said. "They don't want anyone else to know what they're doing."

"You know your son is linked to Mary Sue down the street." Elle said. "One night your son starts acting like he's being beaten. Or complains that he feels hungry all the time because Mary is hungry. Or says that Mary Sue hurts down there. What do you do?"

Chatman only thought for a moment. "Call the police. Have them get an abuse investigation started. My son is a witness."

"Exactly. When this thing spreads there won't be anywhere to hide." Gideon replied. "Every child will be linked to their...their life mate. Which means another household of adults will be able to follow every child's move. No more privacy for abusers. And within those five generations no more abused children. Drug addiction, alcoholism, obesity, diabetes, cancer, emphysema, stroke, depression, suicide, hell even serial killers, the rates of everything holding us back as a species will drop like a stone. By removing the veil of secrecy in the nuclear family they have given future generations of humans the greatest gift, the gift of happy, safe childhoods. And without that pain around our collective necks we will reach the stars."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 05**

 **BAU Headquarters  
Quantico, VA**

 **Fall 2004**

After far too long they finally made it back to the BAU. A very nervous Penelope met them at the elevators. "So." She said to Spencer and JJ. "You have a thing now?"

"In theory." Spencer replied. "But I don't feel any different."

"Neither do I." JJ said.

"Are you contagious?" Penelope asked. "Can I hug you?"

"Of course. We're not contagious." JJ replied, and she easily hugged her friend. Spencer followed suit, no one ever turned down a Penelope hug.

"And even if you get it you should be able to fight it off." Elle said as she followed them in. "Morgan and I have antibodies but we never felt a thing. Hotch and Gideon probably do as well by now."

"That's good to know." Penelope replied. "I just wonder what the government is going to do moving forward."

* * *

Within the month Penelope had her answer. "So how is this database supposed to work?" JJ asked over coffee one morning.

"OK, here's what I've heard." Penelope replied. "Everyone who develops transmitters is registered in the database by their doctor as soon as they test positive. The government uses that to track how many people are infected and where but your actual identity is protected under HIPPA laws. Once you're in the database you get a number. It's up to you if you want to make the contact info for that number public or not."

"So everyone can see it?"

"No, only someone with the same number. I mean, it's in your medical record but otherwise, no. If the computer finds a match it gives the other person the same number. If they also release their contact information you can go to the database and it will give you their info and them your info. Then the two of you can hook up however you want. So both you and Reid are in the database already, the question is, do you want your life mate to be able to find you."

That was a very good question. JJ sat back and looked at Spencer, who looked back at her. "Well, what harm can it do?" She asked after a long moment. "I mean, he could be a skeezeball, but so could my next date. I think I'm going to try it."

"I agree." Spencer replied. "Except for the skeezeball part."

"No, girls can be skeezeballs." Elle said. She'd come over for coffee and had overheard.

"I think I'll take the risk." He replied. "Do you know what we have to do?" He asked Penelope.

"That's the only bad part." She replied. "They're running the forms through Department of Motor Vehicles. They figured that infrastructure for databases of people was already there, it was cheaper to add to then to create new."

JJ and Spencer groaned. "Oh, the joy of a DMV line." JJ said.

Penelope gave them a sympathetic smile. "I know, but you only have to do it once."

"The one good thing. Come on, let's go ask Hotch what would be a good time to go." JJ said.

"Oh, he's not here. He's testifying at the Bryant trial."

"That's today?" Spencer asked.

"What's the Bryant trial?" Elle asked

"Roger Bryant." JJ replied. "He was, what, nineteen when we arrested him. He'd already tortured five prostitutes to death. Granted this was a couple of years ago."

"Why so long to go to trial?"

"Money. His family has lots of it. And he's the baby of the family. They've thrown a lot of resources behind him."

"Oh those are always fun."

"At least that means nothing exciting is going to happen today." JJ said. "Come on Spence, we can tell Morgan we're going to go do this."

"Ummmm..." Spencer hesitated. "Can we do this next week?"

"Um, I guess." JJ looked at him, confused. "Why?"

* * *

 **Logan School Condos  
Apt #13  
Washington DC**

Twelve days later Spencer was hosting a moving party. Help him pack boxes, he paid for the pizza. Now he was showing his friends around his new condo. "Okay, how much did this cost you?" Morgan asked.

"Um..." Spencer kind of replied.

"Come on Spence." JJ urged. "This place must have cost a fortune."

"Ummm..."

Elle looked at him. "What did you do?"

"Ummm...It wasn't illegal..."

"Reid..." Morgan said.

"See, there's this poker game..." They collectively groaned at him. "What? It was a private game!"

"Do I even want to know how much you could have lost in that game?" Elle asked.

Spencer looked offended. "Lost? I wouldn't lose!"

"Never mind." JJ said. "Our resident card shark thinks he's unbeatable. But this guy really gave you his apartment?"

"Yes. He does this somewhat regularly, about every eighteen months. I thought he was due, so I wanted to see if one was coming up in the next game before I registered."

"Wait, this guy gambles away a condo every other year?" Penelope asked. "Why?"

"Because if he sold them his wife would find out about them."

"And the mistresses he keeps in them?" Elle asked

"Something like that." Spencer replied.

"That makes more sense." Elle said. "But why try to win one now?"

"Well, we're going to find our life mates eventually, right? I didn't want to invite her back to my old place."

"Oh come on! Whoever she is she's not going to care about your apartment."

"No, he might have a point." JJ said.

"What?"

"You haven't seen his old place." Penelope said. "It's, like, a closet. This little rinky dink studio in this ancient building. He doesn't even have a kitchen. He had to put up shelves to hold his coffee maker."

"She wouldn't have been able to sit down comfortably." JJ added. "He sleeps on his couch."

"Ew." Elle replied.

"It was what I could afford when I moved here." Spencer protested. "And it's only two blocks from Union Station."

"Still. I see your point, this is better. And just as close too."

"Oh yeah." Morgan had been looking around. "You got it going here. Your old place was no place for entertaining the honeys. But here, you got the romantic dining room, then the fireplace, down the hall to the bedroom. Yeah, this is Derek Morgan entertainment approved." He teased with a big grin.

The rest of the team rolled their eyes at him and went to collect boxes to pack.

* * *

 **BAU Headquarters  
Quantico, VA**

After Spencer moved, and he and JJ opened their names in the Virus Database, there was nothing to do but wait.

And work, of course. The Tuesday after the move Hotch came back to work. "So, how did it go?" Elle asked.

"Bryant got life without parole." Hotch replied.

"That works." Morgan said. The others nodded their heads in approval; another Unsub was where he couldn't hurt anyone anymore.

"I agree. But now we have another case."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 06**

 **BAU Headquaters  
Quantico, VA**

 **Spring 2005**

 **Penelope**

Over the months between when they were infected and the following summer, when Elle left under a cloud of suspicion and their newest member, Emily Prentiss, joined the team, the Alien Virus slowly but inexorably crept from LA to the major cities. And wherever it went society changed with it.

As Gideon had predicted the rates of child abuse skyrocketed at first, as more and more reports were made. But after the first thirty days the rates dropped precipitously, as parents realized they could no longer take out their negative emotions on the children in their lives without another adult being aware of it and contacting law enforcement. Then the police would subpoena the courts for the contact info for the reporting child's mate and begin an investigation, which always bore fruit. At the same time rates of divorce started going up, as those same parents started taking it out on their spouses instead, and the rates of kinship adoption, children going to live with grandparents or aunts and uncles, also rose. The end result would be happier, healthier children, and the conditions that made abusers mostly dying out with that generation.

But other positive changes happened. When word got out about the Alien Virus the behavior of many teens and college students seemed to change overnight. Grade point averages went up over one semester. Rates of teen and college drinking and drug use had already been dropping, but now they went down even more. More young people started joining gyms and Googling information on nutrition. And the rates of teen pregnancy and sexual activity almost dropped off a cliff. It seemed that everyone was waiting for the mate they just knew was out there. And everyone wanted to be the best they could be for that other person, now that they knew that he or she would find them, sooner or later.

It quickly became a thing. When you turned sixteen you went to the DMV and got your license. When you turned eighteen you went and released your contact information for your mate to find. If you were lucky they were waiting for you. If not the agonizing period of waiting began. But sooner or later your email would ping with the notification that you had been matched, and you would meet the one person who would be your best friend for life. And nearly always your romantic partner as well.

Only among the very oldest infected were people more hesitant. Maybe being out in the big, bad world, having dated and hooked up only to find that whoever that was they were not The One, made them more reticent, more suspicious, but people infected between the ages of 22 and 25 tended to wait a bit before releasing their name. They just weren't certain it was the best idea.

Which meant that their mates had to wait too.

* * *

Of all people, Penelope Garcia turned out to be the primary support systems for her 'kittens', as she called JJ and Spencer. "Ugh! I hate this!" She overheard JJ say one morning.

Penelope went into JJ office to find her staring at the database screen, showing no matches for her. "You hate what? Waiting?"

"Of course! Who doesn't?"

"You know, there are things you can do in the meantime."

"Like what?" JJ asked with a sigh.

"I read about these classes people are taking." Penelope replied. "Supposedly you can use meditation techniques to focus your mind, so when your mate is infected you can more easily separate what he's feeling from what you're feeling."

JJ groaned. "Oh come on, that's a bunch of hooey."

"Okay. What else are you doing on Wednesday nights?" Penelope asked.

JJ thought about this. "Only if we get Spence to come too."

* * *

 **Logan School Condos  
Apt #13  
Washington DC**

"Okay, explain this to me." Penelope asked.

Spencer took a deep breath. "I know I'm not anyone's idea of a catch."

"Ohhh, of course you are! Don't be silly."

"No, Penelope, I'm not. I'm funny looking, I know it."

"No you're not. Besides, you don't even know what she looks like yet."

"It doesn't matter what she looks like. She's already the most beautiful girl in the world to me, or will be. I've been reading the reports analyzing the alien technology; I trust it to be accurate. But, it's just, what if _she_ doesn't like _me_."

"Why wouldn't she like you?"

"Because I'm weird. I slouch. My hair is too long. My tie is perpetually crooked. I have to wear glasses every time the cherry trees bloom. I'm only home nine days out of every fourteen on average. And I've never..."

"Never?" Penelope blinked a moment. "Oh, never. Never?"

"Never." Spencer replied, ignoring the heat in his cheeks.

"Okay, even if all that was true you'd still be a catch. You're _really_ well educated, gainfully employed, don't have any weird habits or hobbies..."

"I babble, Penelope. I never realize I'm doing it until I've driven people crazy with it. I work with so much insanity and evil that I find slasher horror movies comedic. I'm a complete nerd, Star Trek, Star Wars, Dr. Who, all of it. And I may be gainfully employed but I'm also supporting a sick mother. And I like to knit. That's weird on a guy, I know."

"Yeah, how is that Dr. Who scarf going?"

"Three feet and growing. I just want something else to bring to the table, something to make the time that I am home special."

Penelope took a deep breath. "Well, when you put it that way...okay, what do you want to learn how to cook first?"

* * *

 **BAU Headquarters  
Quantico, VA**

"Hey Penelope." JJ called to her friend as she came into the lobby

"Hey, JJ. Please tell me we do not have a case."

"Not at the moment. No, I was wondering if you thought Morgan would help me with a project."

"What kind of project?"

"Well, I've been thinking about this whole mate thing..."

"I know you have. I don't think he could get whoever he is infected any faster."

"I know, but I thought...you know, you want to bring your best to the table, and I..."

"Oh come on, you totally are already. Any guy would have to be a complete idiot to turn you down."

"Okay, that is flattering. I don't know, maybe I'm just looking for something to keep my mind off waiting."

"I can see that. So what are you looking at?"

"Well, you know I went home for the holidays, and ate all of my family's cooking and I kinda put on a few..."

"If you did I can't tell where you're keeping them."

JJ groaned. "Look, there is only so much I can bring a guy, okay."

"Yeah, a lot." Penelope replied. "I mean look at you. You're a perfect size six, educated, really well employed, ambitious..."

"Yeah, but I'm lousy at the traditional stuff. I can't cook, I have a housekeeper come in, I take my laundry out..."

"So you're not into that stuff. Don't change yourself into something you're not, it never works."

"I'm not. I just want to improve the stuff I have. Not so much lose but maybe tone up a little, take some yoga..."

"Yoga?"

"Yeah, you know. For..."

"For..." All of a sudden Penelope got it. She lowered her voice. "Oh, I get it. You want the whole bedroom goddess package. Strength, stamina, flexibility, good, giving and game all in one."

"Of course." JJ lowered her voice as well. "I mean, might as well make a good thing mind blowing, right? So, do you think Morgan will help? With the strength and stamina part, you know, gym stuff."

"I am so certain he will. Come on, let's go ask him."

* * *

 **YogaNoMa  
1200 First Street NE  
Washington, DC**

"That was weird." JJ said as they left the yoga studio.

"Yeah, but kind of relaxing." Spencer replied.

As it turned out the class was for infected only. But Penelope was going to meet them at the sidewalk café across the street. "But do you think it will work?" JJ asked as they headed that way.

"We won't know until our mates are infected." Spencer replied. "Personally I'm hoping it will. It's a fascinating experiment, either way."

"You would think of it that way."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 07**

 **BAU Headquarters  
Quantico, VA**

 **Early summer 2005**

 **Emily**

"So they're diametrically opposed to each other?" Emily Prentiss asked.

"Yep." Morgan replied. "Drives them both nuts."

They saw that the moment they walked into the bullpen. It was Emily's first full day, she'd met Derek Morgan, her unofficial 'partner', and now she was finally getting to see her desk. But along the way they passed the break area. "I made them last night." Spencer was saying. He opened a plastic box and let out the most heavenly aroma. "Morning buns. It's a flakey croissant dough with an orange-cinnamon-brown sugar filling."

"Which will completely undo the two hours I spent in the gym this morning." JJ replied. She was clutching her coffee like a magic talisman against carbs.

"Come on, you have to try them!"

"Why can't you go back to making soup?"

Oh there was only one way to solve this argument. "I'll split one with you." Emily said.

"Thank you." JJ replied as Spencer fished one out of the box for them.

After introductions were made and small talk all around Emily got to the part that now had her curious. "So, you're both infected?"

"Yeah, for about a year now." JJ replied.

"What's it like?"

"It's...nothing. We've been taking these classes to help control it when it comes up, but so far there hasn't been anything."

"So neither of you have been matched with anyone?"

"N...no." JJ turned and looked in the direction of her office without looking. "Granted with this last case I haven't looked in a few days."

"Me neither." Spencer said. He headed for his computer.

Emily trailed after JJ as she went to her office and punched a number into a website. "Nope, nothing." She said.

"Aww." Emily replied.

"Yeah, I don't know." JJ replied to that. "It's still kinda weird after all..."

"Oh my god!" Penelope exclaimed from the bullpen.

JJ got up and both women headed for the bullpen. They found Spencer staring at his computer, his jaw hanging loose, with a shocked Morgan and Penelope looking over his shoulder. "What is it?" Emily asked. She turned to look as well.

There was a match.

"Oh my god." JJ said.

"It says she's been in the system for two days." Penelope said. "Have you felt anything different for the past two days?"

"Um, no." Spencer replied. "Nothing I've noticed."

"Okay, come here Spence." JJ grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him out of his chair and over to her quiet office, trailing Penelope behind them. There she pushed him down into the visitor's chair. Emily watched from the doorway with Morgan. "Remember what we learned in class, you have to breathe and focus."

"I just feel silly when I do that!" He replied.

"Spence! Focus."

As Emily watched he closed Spencer closed his eyes and shifted his breathing. After a few minutes he cocked his head. "You really can separate it off." He said. "It's not that hard once you start trying."

"Okay, but what are they feeling?" Penelope asked.

"Um...happy."

"Spence!" JJ protested. "You're supposed to get specific; it's supposed to be easier to split it off if you do."

"I know, I know, but there isn't much there." He replied. "Just...happy. Content I guess. There's nothing really exciting."

Emily shrugged. "I guess happy isn't a bad thing."

"No." Morgan agreed. "But with all this talk about abusers you kinda want to go out and be the hero. You can't save someone from happy."

They wandered back out. Spencer fetched his coffee and box and went back to his computer and stared at the simple notification on his screen. This number, matched two days ago. "I hope she releases her contact info soon." He said. "If she's like this all the time I probably should apologize."

"Why?" Emily asked.

"I might be too exciting for her." He pulled out a bun to have with his coffee.

Emily smiled. "Somehow I doubt that."

* * *

 **Logan School Condos  
Apt #13  
Washington DC**

 **Spencer**

Content. That truly was the best way to describe what Spencer felt from his life mate most of that first day. Most of that first week in fact. All day, every day, whoever she was she was very happy with her life right now. She was content.

It wasn't until Friday evening that he felt something. A frisson of excitement early in the evening, a hint of nerves which settled into a sort of heightened awareness. But by the end of the evening it eased down into a mild disappointment. "Sounds like a date which didn't go well." Penelope said over the phone. "Not a really horrible date, but not all that great either."

"So why doesn't she release her contact information?" Spencer asked. It had been five days, surely that was enough time to get to the DMV.

"Maybe she's just nervous about the whole alien thing. Give her time, she'll be curious eventually."

"I hope so."

But Spencer wasn't only hoping for his sake. As the week-end passed he began to notice something else mixed in with that contentment, something mild and minor, but most definitely there.

His life mate was lonely.

Spencer could understand that. On week-ends, when he was away from work and all his friends, he was lonely too.

* * *

 **BAU Headquarters  
Quantico, VA**

 **Thursday, August 25, 2005**

 **JJ**

Spencer might have been matched first, but JJ was the first one to be truly affected by the infection.

"Did you hear the news?" Penelope asked when she walked in the office.

"What news?"

"Last night the virus database was hacked. Nothing was damaged but someone got the records for the entire east coast."

"That's...interesting." And a little disquieting. It was making her uncomfortable. "All they'll get from me is my name and phone number though. Big deal."

"Yeah, Spencer said the same thing. He left a mailing address. He's a little miffed though."

"Why?" That came out a lot grumpier than JJ intended. But everything had been coming out a lot grumpier than intended.

"Be-cause now the hacker knows who his life mate is and he still doesn't." Penelope frowned. "What is up with you this morning?"

"I don't know. It's like ever since I got up this morning there's been this cloud of doom following me. It's like something really big and scary is coming."

By now Morgan had wandered up to join them. "You sure it's you?" He asked. "Because that sounds a lot like how Brisco described feeling Cargill stressing out when she knew she was in for a rough night."

"Yeah, I..." But JJ stopped. Could it be? "I haven't checked in a few days..." She turned and headed to her office, waking up her computer and going to the now so familiar bookmark.

"I just hope he released his name." Morgan said. "If he's in there."

"He is." JJ stared at the screen. It was so bland, so innocuous. But it just changed her life forever.

She had a match.

"Oh. My. God." Penelope said. "Has he released his contact info?"

"Not yet. This says he only entered the system yesterday. I have been feeling off the past couple of days, he must have just been infected this week."

"Hopefully he'll release it soon." Morgan said. "Then we'll go help him with whatever's wrong."

"We?" JJ asked.

"Yeah. He's family."

* * *

 **Logan School Condos  
Apt #13  
Washington DC**

"So, have you tried to differentiate yet?" Spencer asked.

"No." JJ replied. The BAU didn't do 'partners', like most other law enforcement did, but if they had Spencer would likely be hers. Now she and Penelope had come to his place for dinner, and so she wouldn't have to be alone with the constant itch of anxiety that had nothing to do with her. She'd even brought her go bag in case she decided to crash in his guest room. "I didn't have time today."

"So go try now." Penelope said. "See if you can really contact him."

JJ sighed, but turned to the living room and the big floor pillows there. "This makes me feel silly." She said.

"At least you're getting something more than a pleasant work day." Spencer replied.

"Work day?" Penelope asked.

"Given that there's a plus or minus maximum five year differential between life mates already matched and I'm at the upper limit she's likely in her early 20's." Spencer said. "She didn't feel any stress around the times you would expect for finals or papers to be due, so she's likely post-collegiate. She's pursuing a career she enjoys that pays her enough to not cause stress around the usual times when bills come due. She doesn't have any conflicts at work, and she enjoys the works she does, as she feels most relaxed and comfortable during the standard work day. She feels a small amount of stress around rush hour, but not enough for a driver so she's likely taking mass transit, meaning someone living in an urban area. She's not in a steady relationship but does date once or twice a month. I believe she's a young professional in a stable, white-collar job living in an urban area somewhere who really enjoys her career but who doesn't have a regular romantic partner. And that is all I know about her."

"Huh." Penelope considered this. "At least you don't have to worry about her."

"True."

"Oh my god." JJ said. "You can differentiate. It's like he's right over here." She sort of traced the space next to her.

"Can you get a better handle on what he's feeling?" Spencer asked.

"Nervous. Something big is coming. Scared about it. A lot of bravery though, or maybe bravado. And he feels like he's running out of time. Aagghhh!" JJ opened her eyes with a huff. "I want to help him! I just don't know how!"

* * *

 **BAU Headquarters  
Quantico, VA**

 **Friday, August 26, 2005**

The name of JJ's life mate wasn't released that day, or that night, or by the next morning when she checked at home. But the emotions she was feeling from him were just growing stronger. And worse. "Did you sleep last night?" Spencer asked as they met in the elevator.

"Kind of." JJ replied. "I don't think he did. He better have his name up." She said as she headed straight for his office. "Ahhh!" Nope, still no name.

"You know, you might try that emotion burst technique they taught us." Spencer said. "It might at least get his attention."

"Ohhh, I don't know. I guess." It was worth a try. "Have you tried it yet?"

"No. But my life mate hasn't been feeling any negative emotions. There hasn't been any reason to pry. Yours is."

"Okay." JJ settled back in her chair, and evened out her breathing. Picture a concept, they had said, and build up the emotions around it. Concern, curiosity, awareness, whatever that concept means to you. Feel them as intensely as you can, let it all build up inside you. Then try to mentally shout it at the other person. It might be enough to jar their awareness.

So JJ let those emotions build and build and when she could hold them no longer she mentally shouted at the other mind she could touch with her own. _Who are you?_

He didn't feel any different.

She did it again. She let it build and build until she could shout once more. _Who are you?_

Nothing.

Once more. _Who are you?_

When she breathed again it felt different. He felt different. The anxiety was gone, replaced by curiosity at first, and then the sudden shock of realization. "I think it worked." She said.

"Oh?" Spencer asked

"Yeah. It feels like he realized I'm there. Maybe now he'll get off his duff and go to the DMV."

"Hopefully."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 08**

 **BAU Headquarters  
Quantico, VA**

 **Friday, August 26, 2005**

 **JJ**

But he didn't get up off his duff and go to the DMV. About thirty minutes after JJ had sent that emotional burst, just enough time for her to get coffee and settle in with her first file of the day, her cell phone rang. "This is Jareau." She answered with her usual polite tone.

"Where are you?" Said a male voice with a thick southern accent.

What? "Excuse me?"

"Where are you? Kinda busy today, I don't have much time."

"I, um, think you have the wrong number." She looked at the number on her phone and entered it into the computer, hoping to identify the owner.

"Jennifer Jareau, right?" He rattled off a string of digits.

All of a sudden JJ's heart started to pound. That was her Virus ID number. "Yeah. How did you get this number?"

"Tell you later. Right now I need to get you out of town if this thing doesn't turn."

"What? What thing? Where..." JJ looked at her screen. The number was blocked, but... "Oh my god. You're in New Orleans?" Her head swiveled to look out over the bullpen. The TV was on to the 24 hour news station. Right now the screen showed the giant, swirling cloud over the Gulf of Mexico.

Over _all_ of the Gulf of Mexico.

"Yeah, and I need to get you out of the way."

"I'm in Washington DC."

"You're where?"

"Washington DC. I'm not in any danger from the storm."

She heard him let out a deep breath. "Okay then. Can we talk more later? I'm trying to get some things going here."

"Sure. I'll, um, I'll call you back in a little bit. Wait, what's your name?"

"Will LaMontagine. Junior."

"Will. Everyone calls me JJ."

"Jayje." His accent made it a name. She really liked the accent. "Okay, this number's good for you?"

"Always. You?"

"As long as the network's up."

"Okay, if I don't hear from you by six your time..."

"Make it seven."

"Seven I'll call you back."

"Sounds good chère."

All of a sudden JJ didn't want to let go. "Take care of yourself."

"You too."

He hung up, leaving JJ to sit there, staring at her phone. She could still feel him, but now she understood his anxiety, his concern. But now there was this wonder.

She understood the wonder. She was feeling it too.

* * *

"William LaMontagine Jr." Penelope said. JJ had gone straight to her friend's lair, collecting Spence along the way. "Does he have a file? Oh look, he does."

A picture popped up on the screen. Square jaw, sharp cheekbones, soft, sweet eyes, a gentle smile. JJ found herself staring at those eyes. He had the most amazing eyes.

"He's a police detective." Spencer said, reading over Penelope's shoulder. "New Orleans police department. He's your age, went to the University of Louisiana, majored in Criminal Justice, excellent record..."

"New Orleans?" Penelope said. "No wonder he's been freaking out."

"Yeah. I wish I could get down there to help him." She was an FBI agent, surely they were shorthanded...

"Um, they've been talking about mandatory evacuations starting tomorrow." Penelope replied. "I don't think that's going to be possible."

"True." But now she was thinking. "Can I get you two to help me?"

* * *

 **Logan School Condos  
Apt #13  
Washington DC**

About six thirty New Orleans time JJ's phone rang. "Hey chère." That voice drawled again. "I finally got a meal break here. How are you?"

"I'm doing what I can to help you." JJ replied. "Admittedly that's not much, but they won't let me come down there."

"No, don't come down here. Just stay up there out of the way. Besides, I don't know that you'd be much help anyway."

"I don't know, Detective. I figure you're pretty shorthanded."

That stopped him, and she felt his confusion. "Now how did you know that?"

"I looked you up."

"Looked me up?"

"Yeah. You're a great cop, you know. Even though you cheated."

"Cheated?"

"You looked me up through law enforcement access to the database.

That surprised him. "I don't know how you know that but yeah, I did. Don't have time to get to the DMV right now. City is losing its mind already."

"I believe that. Since I can't help you I figure the best thing I can do is stay out of your way. So I've taken the week-end off, I'm staying at my partner's place..."

"Your partner?"

Huh? "Oh, not romantic partner. I'm an FBI agent"

That surprised him even harder. "You serious?"

"Yeah. I'm with the Behavioral Analysis Unit."

"I have no clue what that means. You'll have to tell me later. But you mean that kind of partner, got it."

"Yeah. My best friend is here; we're going to hole up all week-end and watch you on the news. I'm not going to be chasing any bad guys, no arrests; nothing is going to happen on my end. Anything you feel until this is over is entirely you. I just wish I could do more."

"Aww, I appreciate that chère. It may not sound like much but it's a load off my mind. A literal load." They shared a laugh again. "Tell you what, when this is over I'd like to come up there and meet you."

God, she could melt over his voice. "I'd like that too." She said. "Or I could come down there."

"I don't know how much of down here is going to be around for you to come to. I'll come up there, always wanted to see the Capitol."

"Well you will get the cook's tour."

"Something to look forward to. Hey, could you do me a favor?"

"Sure."

"Could you send a picture? I don't have time to get back to my desk and look you up right now."

JJ felt herself blushing. "Sure, I'll send you one."

"All right. Tell you what, I'll call you up tomorrow night this time, assuming we still have service."

"That would be great. Take care of yourself and your family, okay?"

"I will. You do that too."

They rang off, and JJ practically jumped off the couch. "Take my picture." She said as she ran into the kitchen, where Spencer and Penelope had been waiting, giving her privacy. "No, wait." She pulled off her FBI sweatshirt, leaving just her black camisole over her jeans. "Okay, now take my picture."

Penelope laughed as she snapped the picture.

* * *

 **French Quarter  
New Orleans, LA**

 **Will**

Will was just tossing his dinner wrapper when his phone chirped an incoming picture. "What have you got there?" His partner, Charlie, asked him.

"My life mate." Will replied. "Or so the aliens say." He'd had a cold last week, not a big thing, but they made him go check before he could go back to work. And here they were. "Would you believe she's an FBI agent?"

"Nu uh."

"So she said."

"You're gonna need proof of that."

Just then the picture downloaded and Will stopped in his tracks. Damn, she was something. Long, wheat blond hair, a slightly round face, big blue eyes, a sweet, sunny smile. Lots of confidence in a rocking body. Hell, more than something. And those eyes...

Charlie looked over his shoulder. "You owe those aliens a fruit basket there."

Will shot off a quick text. _FBI?_

A few moments later another picture came back. Same beautiful blond, only this time showing her credentials and badge. "See." He showed Charlie.

Charlie chuckled. "Don't you let go of that one son."

"If we get through the week I do not intend to."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 09**

 **Logan School Condos  
Apt #13  
Washington DC**

 **Monday, August 29, 2005**

 **JJ**

Later JJ would wonder how she managed to survive that week.

She spent all of it at Spencer's, sleeping in his guest room when she slept, watching the news in his living room, letting him and Penelope feed her to his heart's content. The classes she had taken allowed her to push Will's emotions off enough so that they didn't become confused with her own, but that wasn't as much help as she thought. It was like she was right beside him, not feeling his pain but witnessing it firsthand.

His city was falling apart.

His city was falling apart, with the apocalypse drawing ever nearer. But he bore his fears with strength and grace. Somehow JJ could sense that she was the only one who knew how concerned he was, how worried, how scared. And only she knew how those emotions intensified over the two days, until he was near to bursting with them.

Monday morning, between midnight and dawn, they finally came rushing out. She woke to the sound of a voice she'd only heard over the phone. _That stupid son of a..._

She could hear him. She could hear his thoughts, carried on a wave of fear and frustration. Emotions so strong they were powering the transmitters in his head to the point where they could carry his thoughts. She felt those emotions, let them seep into her, until she thought she could power them too. _Will?_

 _That you chère?_

 _Yea._

 _Didn't know we could do this._

 _Neither did I. What's wrong?_

 _My daddy didn't leave!_

 _What?_

 _He didn't evacuate! He's still at home! I told him to get the hell out of town but he didn't leave!_

JJ had spoken to Will on Saturday, and again last night. She knew the plan was for him, his partner and some other officers to shelter in a home in the French Quarter, their district. They said the home had walls of stone two feet thick, steel hurricane shutters, and was on the highest ground in the city. They could work until the last minute, hole up through the storm, then go right back to work as soon as it passed. But now that plan might have changed. She turned on the news to find that the storm was making landfall _. Is he safe there? Is he in the quarter with you?_

 _No!_

 _Can you get to him?_

 _I don't know!_

Damn it! She not only felt his worry, his fear, but she heard him on the phone. " _Are you listening to me Pop? Grab your wallet and get out of there, the last busses are filling up!"_

" _Dad, forget the dammed case!"_

" _People are going to be drowning in their homes! The levees aren't going to hold! The whole parish is going to be underwater!"_

" _Screw the letter! They opened up the Superdome, I want you to meet me there!"_

" _Come on, please, I'm begging you Pop!"_

" _Pop?"_

" _Pop!"_

JJ couldn't stop the scream from her throat as Will's panic filled her. It overwhelmed everything. He panicked and flew through the storm, flew and flew and...and...

When she could think again, could breathe again, she found herself sitting on the bed, rocking, whimpering. Spencer had her in his arms and was rocking her. "His father. Will's father."

"Shhhh." Spencer replied.

"He can't get to him. There's flooding."

"I know."

"It's like he's gone numb or something."

"That's shock."

"Will..." She couldn't help it, she broke down sobbing. But she could still think, could still feel. _Will?_

 _I'm going back to the safe house._ Grief filled him. There was nothing left now. Not even fear.

 _Will..._

 _Just don't let go, chère. Please don't let go._

* * *

 **BAU Headquarters  
Quantico, VA**

 **Monday, September 12, 2005**

Somehow they survived the storm.

After that night all JJ felt from him was grief, bottomless wells and pools of grief. Not only for his father, for his family, but for the city that was part of his blood. But he carried on, holding it in with a dogged determination, a mix of stubbornness and bravery and exhaustion that would not let go.

Once the worst was over JJ went back to work, but there was no way in hell she was going back out in the field. Her head was not in the game, not enough to go head to head against an Unsub. And Spencer wanted to stick close, to be there in case as he was the only other one who truly understood. Hotch decided to stand the team down, give them time to catch up on paperwork and interviews, and the other non-time-dependent aspects of the job that always seemed to get behind. For that she was immensely grateful.

All that day JJ felt Will's exhaustion and frustration, perhaps more than ever before. But it wasn't until late afternoon that she knew why. Around 3pm Anderson tapped on her door. "Agent Jareau." He said. "Uhhh...you have a visitor."

A visitor? Likely some police officer here to plead for the BAU to take his case personally. She got up, headed for the elevator lobby, and stopped.

His boots were a mess, thickly coated in muck and grime. His pants had been soaked in some kind of oily mess up to his groin. His shirt once read "New Orleans Police", but it was hard to make out through all the salt from all the sweat stains that encrusted it. He had bandages on his forearms, and perhaps blisters and they were all filthy. But his eyes were the worst. They had the faraway look of too much in too little time. "My CO sent us out on leave. First break we've had. Got to report back on Sunday." He said with that thick, sweet accent. "We went straight to the airport. My partner flew to Austin to check on his family. He got the last seat on the plane. I didn't have any other place to go." His eyes finally focused on hers. "I can't believe you're real."

"I'm real." He was so tired. And that grief was just waiting to burst through. But he was a good man, she knew that, one who loved fiercely and deeply, and would never give up on anything. And the first thing he did was come to her.

She couldn't help it. At that moment JJ fell deeply in love.

"Come on, let's get home." She said. But she lived in a studio, where was she going to put him?

It wasn't empathy or telepathy; it was an almost preternatural ability to read body language and a generous heart that had Spencer Reid appearing in the corner of vision. "JJ." He said gently, and when she looked he tossed his spare keys at her.

"Thank you Spence." She said with a smile. "Going to head out at six?"

"Yeah. See you then." He smiled at Will, who looked like he was still catching up, and faded off again so as not to disturb.

"Come on. I just need to grab my go bag." JJ said, taking Will's arm, or trying to. But he pulled away. "What's wrong?"

"You don't want to do that, chère." He said.

"Why not?"

He thought a moment. "What is today?"

"September 12th."

"Last time I had a shower it was August." He looked back at Spencer. "That your partner?"

"Yeah. His place is a lot bigger than mine; we're in his guest room."

"All right. We?"

"Come on."

* * *

 **Logan School Condos  
Apt #13  
Washington DC**

 **Wednesday, September 14, 2005**

 **Will**

Will LaMontagine Jr. woke to a miracle.

He didn't remember much of what had happened since the storm hit. He remembered boats, and getting people out of houses, and looters everywhere who could not be stopped. He remembered chaos and heat and the stink of the city rotting and of the convention center and of the Superdome. He remembered it all in chunks and flashes but he couldn't string it all together into a straight line narrative. That simply wasn't in him. And he surely did not remember how he got here, or even where here was.

Here was a bed in a loft of some kind. Brick on some walls, others a cool grey. There was early morning sun coming in the windows, but the temperature spoke of functioning electricity and air conditioning. The bed was comfortable and clean, and he was too somehow. He dimly remembered a long hot shower and falling into bed, but it was real cloudy.

It took him that long to realize he was not alone in that bed.

He turned his head and studied the blond angel lying on the other side of it. Yes, she was something to look at. But more than that she was strong, the kind of strong that never let go, even through all that horror. For so much of that she was the only thing that kept him running, knowing that no matter what he was not alone, and somewhere there was something clean and good waiting for him.

Because everything that had been good in the world was gone.

It hit him then, after weeks of holding it in. It was all gone. His family, his city, his whole world was gone. Drowned in the waters, rotting away. Gone. Gone.

Maybe it was the grief, unstoppable at last, welling up, that woke her. "Hey." She said.

He wanted to smile, wanted to kiss her, wanted to say so many things. But everything within him was coming out, could not be stopped. "It's all gone." He said.

And then she held him while he cried.

* * *

.

* * *

Note: Some dialogue taken from 02x18 "Jones". Specifically the cold opening flashback. No copyright infringement intended.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

 **National Mall  
Washington DC**

 **Saturday, September 17, 2005**

 **JJ**

"I have to go back." Will said when he hung up the phone and slid it back in his pocket.

"I know." JJ sighed. She looped an arm around his waist as they went back to walking. She could feel how badly he was dreading his return. But she could also feel the honor, the pride, the loyalty in him that would not allow him to do anything else. "Charlie's going back too?"

"Yeah. He's family is staying in Austin though, his wife has family there." He smiled at her. "I don't have to tell you."

"No." She understood what it was like to be a cop, to be part of what they called the thin blue line. She knew how strong those bonds went. She would go back. "How long do they think it will take?"

"Right now they don't even know if there's going to be a city there anymore. The water's still coming in. But either way, you know. I've either got to help put her back together or put her to rest. I can't do anything less. If nothing else my daddy would expect it from me."

His father. She could feel the rawness of that wound still. "Are you planning a funeral for him?"

"Memorial, once the city's back together enough." He said. She sighed as she felt his pain deepen. "We don't have a body to bury. We weren't able to retrieve it in time, they're going to have to cremate and dispose for the health hazard."

Oh that wasn't fair. "Will..."

"I know chère. He'd understand. We'll give him a proper send off regardless, once we can get a band together."

"I'll come down for it."

"I'd appreciate that." Now he looked at her. "Your life is not always this quiet, is it?"

JJ smiled. "No, I've been burning off leave time for a few weeks now."

"I can't talk you into doing something quieter, can I?"

"About as well as I could talk you into staying in DC."

"Oh, I'm thinking about moving here." He replied, with a lazy smile as he felt her surprise.

"Moving here?" Did she want him to move here? JJ thought about what she had learned about him in the short time they had spent together. She knew he was a hard-working man, dedicated to the force and to serving in law enforcement, one who didn't shirk any duty but always did his best and always saw the job through. She knew he was a smart man, if not matching Hotch's intuition or Reid's brilliance, and despite that slow, easy drawl and folksy manner, he could easily match Morgan for intelligence and good common sense. She knew he was a healthy man, he was active in his personal life, played softball, worked out, had no major vices. Sure he liked a few beers with the football game, but then so did she, and he did love his rich, native cuisine enough to perhaps add an inch or two to his waist, but she couldn't hold that against him. But perhaps most of all she knew he was a loyal man, he was quite the flirt but his entire time here that attention had been focused on her in a way that felt like he was never going to turn to anyone else. "I wouldn't mind it if you moved here. I'll have to get a bigger apartment though."

"You might want to do that." He leaned in to her shoulder, sending warm breath over the sensitive nerves in her neck. "Because I wouldn't mind staying there next time I come to visit."

And the hell of it was he had to feel exactly what that did to her. "I think we can manage that." Being at Spencer's had put a brake on anything more than getting to know each other, even if they had been sharing a bed. But now that she knew him next time they would likely not leave her apartment.

"Something to look forward to then." They walked along a little further. "So how are we going to know when it's just work or when something's wrong?"

Work or something wrong. When that rush of adrenaline tinged with fear hit. "Do they have cell phone service back up yet?"

"Just. In some places." She felt his grief once more. "Hopefully they'll get it all back soon."

She pulled the arm wrapped around his waist tighter. "That will have to do."

* * *

 **Open country  
Outside El Paso, TX**

 **Thursday September 22, 2005**

Another week, another case. And with Will back home there was no reason for JJ to remain on leave.

Her emotions were the usual ones. The focus of work, the concern for the victims and their families, the professional anger against the Unsub, some frustration with the local LEOS. Nothing strong enough to really spike the meter.

And his were similar. Focus, frustration, some anger, some happiness. In his case under it all still the ebb and flow of grief, but he was handling that as well as could be expected. Again, nothing spiked the meter, but JJ was glad for what she felt. She could feel him there, part of her life, part of her, an unexpected comfort all around.

Until she spiked the meter, with the adrenaline rush of the final take down, the fear that maybe they hadn't gotten to the victim in time, the rush of relief when she realized they had. She was just stepping back, letting the EMT's get in there, when her phone chimed an incoming text from Will. _Did you get him?_

JJ smiled. He understood. They could make this work after all. _Yeah, we did._


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

 **Logan School Condos  
Apt #13  
Washington DC**

 **November, 2005**

 **Spencer**

It had been one of those cases. One of the ones where the Unsub turns back on the BAU and attacks without mercy. They got him, of course, but not before JJ spiked her internal emotion meter in the ensuing fight. "There you are." She said into the phone as she wandered in to Spencer's kitchen, freshly washed and dressed in her comfy clothes. "Yeah, I'm good now. That would be the black eye. Yeah."

Spencer chuckled. JJ's eye was swelling along nicely, but it wasn't serious. He kept putting dishes in the dishwasher while she went to the fridge to get another ice pack, and Penelope opened their second bottle of wine. It had been that kind of a case.

"I am a little, I'm about to have my third glass of wine. No, I'm not going home alone. I'm sleeping in Spence's guest room tonight. At least I think I am." She moved the mouth piece a little. "Am I?"

"Of course." Spencer replied. He never minded having friends stay over. "She is." He said loud enough for the phone.

"See. I'm fine. Go back to work." JJ smiled. "Yeah, I love you too." She wandered out to the living room for some private last words.

"Awww." Penelope cooed. "They are so sweet. Still no word from your life partner?"

"No." It had been six months. Six months of this constant, mostly calm and happy presence in his head. But otherwise nothing. "I wish there was some way to contact her. Maybe reassure her that I don't mean her any harm or anything."

"She's probably just shy or something." Penelope said.

"She might be nervous about her looks." JJ added, as she came in from the living room and accepted her wine.

"Looks don't matter to me though. I wish there was some way I could tell her that." Spencer replied.

"Oh come on." Penelope said. By now they were all a little tipsy, that was their only excuse for what happened next. "You don't want someone gorgeous like Lila for your first time?"

"Wait." JJ said. "First time?"

Spencer could feel JJ's eyes drilling into his back. He took a deep breath and turned around. "Yeah." Now where was his wine?

"You're kidding me!"

"No." Thank heaven, there it was. He took a healthy sip. "There's nothing wrong with being a virgin. I want to find the right person, that's all."

"Yeah, but nothing?" JJ asked.

"No, there's something." Penelope replied. "His eyes look guilty. And I'm not even a profiler."

"I...supposed it depends on how you define sex." Spencer said.

"Okay, we can assume you've never slept with a girl." JJ said. Spencer nodded to that. "Ever seen one naked? Outside of a work context, of course, and in person."

"Um...no." No, Spencer had to admit he had never gotten that far with a woman.

"Okay." Penelope said. "Ever been to third base?"

"I never understood what that meant." Spencer admitted.

"Ever get your hand down a girl's pants? Or her hand down your pants?"

"Um, no."

"Okay, second base?" JJ asked. "Which is seriously making out and feeling someone up over their clothes."

"Ummmmm..." Spencer felt his face flame. "Yeah, there were a few people...back in college... and then Lila."

"You got to second base with Lila?" Penelope asked. "Yes! I did not realize it had gone that far!"

"Yeah, kind of." Spencer took a healthier sip of his wine.

"Yeah, but there's something else." JJ said. "You still look like you're hiding something."

"Um...you know..."

"Wait a minute." Penelope said. "We've been saying girls but he said people. Were any of those 'people' guys?"

Oh hell. Spencer drained his glass; it was the only way to face this conversation. "A few." Both women nearly screamed out shocked laughter. "I told you, I don't care what someone looks like. I care that I know them well and they're special. They were good friends and we went there. It's not a big deal."

"No, but it is being bi is what it is." JJ said with a big grin.

"Not that it matters." Penelope added. "We love you no matter what."

"Good to know." He smiled at them. "I've been told that pansexual is the more appropriate term."

"Which is totally not what I expected of the straight laced Dr. Reid." JJ said.

"Why not?"

"You never talk about it."

"It's not really appropriate for work." He contemplated another glass of wine. "You know, my mother always taught me that eros needs to follow agape, wherever it leads."

"English, Spence." JJ said.

"Sex follows love, not the other way around. I don't know if that makes me a prude or a libertine, but either way so be it. I'm pansexual, there you go." And yes to the wine.

"Nahh, it just makes you you Spence." JJ said, throwing an arm around him. "And you are wonderful."

* * *

Like many other agents Spencer had his personal mail delivered to his box at the office. It kept it from building up where someone might see when he was out of town on a case, lessened the chances for an Unsub to find his home address, and made sure that every envelope he opened went through the CBN detection equipment down in the mailroom, just in case. But the end result was a pile after every trip. The day after that miserable case, after JJ had gone home, Spencer sat down with a pot of tea and some shortbread to nurse the small hangover he had and go through the pile of mail.

Due to the size of the pile he might have missed the one envelope with the handwritten address, except the envelope was small and thick, just the kind of thing to catch his attention.

The address on the front was written in excellent penmanship, likely with a fountain pen based on the effect of the ink on the paper. The paper itself was ecru, likely cotton, an expensive, tasteful blend. On the back an embossed address was pressed into the flap, but only a PO box, here in DC. There was no name.

Well, it had gone through the testing equipment. The chances of it containing anthrax or something similar were small. Spencer opened the envelope and found that it was lined in a brilliant blue tissue. The note inside was of the same expensive paper, trimmed in a matching blue, and had an embossed medallion in gold at the top. The handwriting on it was the same as on the envelope.

 _Dear Dr. Reid,_

 _I hope I'm not being forward by contacting you. I received your address from the alien virus database..._

Spencer went cold with shock.

He set the note aside and picked up his phone. He hadn't checked for days, at least since Thanksgiving, but now...

Now there was more than the bare announcement of a match.

Now there was a name.

 _Dr. J. Rivers  
PO Box 3449  
50 Massachusetts Ave NE  
Washington, DC 2002-9995_

A name

There was a name.

And she lived right here in DC.

Of course the address didn't help at all, he recognized it as the post office in Union Station, only a few blocks away but since every transit line in the city went through there she could live anywhere. But still, he had a name. And a way to contact her.

He had to wonder if she could feel how excited he was.

* * *

 _Dear Dr. Reid,_

 _I hope I'm not being forward by contacting you. I received your address from the alien virus database. I don't know if I should apologize for not releasing my name sooner. I admit, given what I've felt of you I've been afraid you'd find me terribly uninteresting. My intent is not to be a burden, only to let you know that you have no need to concern yourself with me, and that I am open to correspondence if you wish._

 _Yours,_

 _J. Rivers._

* * *

 _Dear Dr. Rivers,_

 _No, you're not being forward at all. I'm glad we have this opportunity to get to know each other. And no apology is needed; in fact I've been afraid that I might need to apologize for allowing some rather strong emotions to intrude on what feels like a very pleasant, calm life. If I've disquieted you in any way I do apologize._

 _I'm glad to hear that you're in as safe situation as I thought. At least I assume that's what you mean when you said I have no need of concern. I am entirely open to correspondence. In fact I hope to hear from you again._

 _Yours,_

 _S. Reid._


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

 _Dear Dr. Reid,_

 _I am so glad to hear from you again. I admit I was afraid you wouldn't be interested in this odd alien project. Now that I've had a chance to settle in with the idea I admit to being fascinated by the whole thing. I don't know anyone else who's been infected, do you? And if so and you can share, have they met their life mate and how has it affected them?_

 _You have not disquieted me. If anything you've fascinated me, I cannot imagine a life that can be so calm, but then have these short but intense periods of excitement and fear. I've come up with all sorts of imaginings, trying to picture why. I admit to my curiosity, but if you cannot or will not share I do understand._

 _I am in a very safe situation. If I am assuming what you mean by that my living situation is secure and comfortable, my work pays well and offers me very little in the way of stress, and I have no abusive people in my life. I do hope you can say the same, if not I am more than willing to help in any way I can._

 _Yours,_

 _J. Rivers_

* * *

 _Dear Dr. Rivers,_

 _I am also fascinated by this alien project. I know a number of people who have been infected, including someone I am close to. But perhaps it's best I get to that in a moment._

 _Those short, intense periods of excitement and fear directly relate to my work. I'm an FBI agent. I work with the Behavioral Analysis Unit. I could spend several pages talking about my work, but it would be easier to refer you to the work of Dave Rossi. He used to be a member of our unit and has written a number of books on his experiences. I will warn you, those books might be disturbing._

 _As far as people that I know who are infected, my partner here at the BAU has been, and she has met her life mate. They seem to get along quite well, in fact are hopelessly in love, even though their relationship is a long distance one. Her life mate is also in law enforcement, and they text back and forth whenever either is actively making an arrest, to reassure the other that they're all right. It's a bit nerve wracking for both of them, at one point one was in a situation that caused emotions to run so high they briefly became telepathic, but they're making it work._

 _While I can't say my work offers me little in the way of stress it does pay well, my living situation is also secure, and outside of criminals everyone in my life is supportive and loving. I consider my teammates my family._

 _Now it's my turn to admit to curiosity, what do you do that is so calming during the day? And doctor, what is your field?_

 _Yours,_

 _S. Reid._

* * *

 _Dear Dr. Reid,_

 _FBI. That explains so much. I'll be heading out to pick up some of those books in the morning. Now I am afraid you'll find me dreadfully dull. But I am glad to know that you have good people at your side and back, as I've heard them say, so I shall not worry. Although perhaps we should have a way to contact each other more quickly, in case I should, how to put it, feel something stronger?_

 _I'm glad to hear that this has gone well for your partner. But she and her life mate became telepathic? How did that happen? I've never even heard of such a thing. But then I don't know anyone else who's been infected, I'm the youngest at my workplace by many years and I don't generally socialize outside of work._

 _I'm the head of reader services at the Folger Library in DC. This means I manage the reading rooms and the reference desk. It is very quiet and for me very enjoyable work. I studied medieval and renaissance literature at UC Berkley, spent a year at Oxford, and am very lucky to have this position at my age. My current plan is to eventually become the Director, if all goes well, and then never leave. I love it here, but I'm sure you would find it quite dull._

 _I'm afraid I'm a bit of an introvert, or more than a bit. I prefer quiet evenings with a bit of classical music and a good book. Sometimes I'll catch a lecture or a foreign film, but otherwise I'm a homebody, I admit it. Although someday I'd love to learn how to cook, I rather rely on take out. But since it's just me it's not a great expense._

 _If it's not too forward to ask, is it just you?_

 _Yours,_

 _J. Rivers._

* * *

 **BAU Headquarters  
Quantico, VA**

 **November 2005**

"Hey, Junior G-man." Penelope's voice brought Spencer back to this time and place. "What are you drooling on over there?"

Spencer looked up and blinked. It was a note card, once more ecru cotton. But this came in an envelope lined in mustard yellow tissue and was trimmed in red with an embossed red rooster. Every letter had come with a different design; he could only assume Dr. Rivers collected note cards.

Also, she was _wonderful_. "Um, a letter from my, um, life mate."

"What?" Penelope came over and peeked over his shoulder. "Oh my god, she contacted you? She released her contact info?"

"Yeah." He grinned at the bit of paper in his hand. "She's a librarian." Oh, but he could picture it now. Going to really good cinema together, checking out new restaurants before or after lectures, curling up in front of his fire with some Bach playing. He could cook for her. He could meet her at work. Those reading rooms were so romantic.

"Seriously? Okay, I can totally see that. Did she say why it took her so long?"

"She was afraid she'd be too boring for me."

Penelope laughed at that. "So, what's her name then? I want to see what she looks like."

What she looks like. Actually it was a lot more than that, Penelope could look up everything about her. "No." He said quietly.

"Huh?"

"I don't want to rush this. I want her to be able to reveal what she's comfortable with at her own pace."

"But don't you want to know what she looks like?"

"It doesn't matter what she looks like. I can already tell she's beautiful." He looked down at the letter again. "Um, can I give her your number? In case, you know, of emergency."

Penelope smiled. "Of course you can."

* * *

 _Dear Dr. Rivers,_

 _A way to contact me in case is an excellent idea. I'm enclosing my number at the end, although you're more likely to reach me by text that way then by phone, we turn the ringers off in the field except for teammates. In case it ever feels emergent I'm also enclosing contact information for our tech analyst, Penelope Garcia. She runs our systems here in Quantico, and is always in contact. If something happens she'll expect your call._

 _Based on my research telepathy only presents in the most dire of circumstances. He was in New Orleans for Katrina, which was a large part of what triggered the event. I can't imagine it ever happening between us. If it did I would likely be the one to trigger it. If so please call Garcia right away and tell her, so she can send help._

 _Don't be so certain about what I find dull. I did some research at the Folger when I first arrived in DC, although given that the Director of the reading room then was a much older woman I believe it must have been before your time. No wonder you enjoy your work so much. I studied at CalTech, mathematics, chemistry and engineering, with degrees in each, as well as a few minor degrees along the way. But I appreciate the humanities dearly; I was steeped in medieval literature as a child. Have you ever read any of Prof. Diana Reid's work? She's done a fair amount of work on Arthurian legends, especially the development of the side works in the 12_ _th_ _century. Mother also likes to refer to me as Percival, and is tickled by the fact that our conference table at the BAU is round._

 _Outside of work I'm an introvert myself. Do you ever catch lectures at Georgetown? If so, and you're at all curious about what we do, look up Alex Blake. Her work on forensic linguistics is extensive and she is an excellent lecturer._

 _It is just me. Unless you count Mom, but she resides in Vegas, still._

 _You don't have to share your contact information if you don't want to._

 _It might be too early to ask, and if you say no or not yet I thoroughly understand, but have you ever considered actually meeting? Perhaps for coffee?_

 _Yours,_

 _S. Reid._


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

 **BAU Headquarters  
Quantico, VA**

 **December, 2005**

Spencer still had a spring in his step that afternoon. They were off rotation, which in his case meant teaching a few classes at the Academy, something he enjoyed. Today's class had been a good one. And he was expecting a letter this afternoon. He really looked forward to letter days.

But what if she wanted to meet? What had he been thinking?

He smiled at the now familiar ecru envelope in the mail pile. Coffee first though, he'd fill his travel mug for the trip home. Maybe he'd read her letter on the train. The first of many readings of course, eidetic memory or not reading her letters was an act worth repeating.

But on his way back he stopped. Everyone on the team was gathering in the elevator lobby, around this little old woman. Her hair was white and her back was stooped, but she gave off an air of power and anger. "Um, she said she wanted to see Aaron Hotchner's team." Penelope said.

"I'm Aaron Hotchner." Hotch said, stepping forward. "How can we help you?"

"By being as miserable as I am." The old lady replied. "My name is Dorthea Bryant. You imprisoned my great-grandson."

"You great-grandson went to prison for murder." Hotch replied.

"Ridiculous! Robbie would never do such a thing! The government is just trying to punish my family. Well now you're the ones being punished."

"What did you do Mrs. Bryant?" Gideon asked.

"I did the same thing to your family that you did to mine. I arraigned for one of yours to be locked away. He'll be treated like my boy is being treated, and you'll know exactly what I know. Nothing! Now you all can suffer the nightmares and the worry, just like I am. Now you will know what it's like to lose part of your soul."

Hotch and Gideon traded an unhappy look. "Anderson." Hotch said, pulling his phone from his pocket. "Take Mrs. Bryant to interrogation room 3."

"Go right ahead!" Mrs. Bryant said. "My lawyers are on their way. Between them and my age I won't do a day in jail, you just watch." Her smile was pure malice over unending misery.

But now Hotch was ignoring her. "Everyone call your families, just in case. Warn them about a threat."

Spencer wasn't in too much of a rush. Bennington was a locked facility; it would be hard to kidnap his mother out of there. But he spoke to the nurse on duty anyway, warned her to watch out for anything suspicious and so on. By the time he got off the phone everyone else was hanging up. "Everyone's accounted for?" Hotch asked.

"Yeah." Morgan said. "My mom and sisters are fine, they were all there."

"I spoke to Mom's Secret Service detail." Emily said. "And my...godson is fine too."

"My mom's visiting my grandma." JJ said. "They're fine"

"My daughter-in-law said that there hasn't been anything..." Gideon said.

"Mom's okay." Spencer said.

"And Haley and Jack are fine." Hotch said. His brow furled in confusion. "She spoke in the past tense. I _had_ one locked away. Not _will_ _have_."

"To lose a part of your soul." Gideon replied.

All of a sudden it clicked. Spencer and JJ met eyes. "Will." She said quietly. She was already pulling out her phone.

But Spencer was already moving. "Garcia, I need the address and number for a Dr. J. Rivers. She works at the Folger Shakespeare Library." But he was already getting on the phone.

A polite, professional voice answered. "Folger Shakespeare Library"

"I need to speak to Dr. Rivers, please. It's an emergency."

"May I ask who's calling?"

"Dr. Reid from the FBI."

"One moment." One moment that stretched into eternity. "I'm sorry, Dr. Rivers has gone home for the day."

"Thank you!" Spencer was off the phone before he could be put over to voicemail. He and the others were already moving.

"I'll send you the address!" Penelope called after them.

* * *

 **106 6** **th** **St SE.  
Apartment "A"  
Washington DC**

Turned out she lived five blocks from work, ten from Union Station, and twelve from him. Twelve blocks. Exactly one mile. One mile away all this time.

"According to DC Metro the back door was open when they got here." Hotch was saying.

It was a standard row house apartment. You entered from the foyer into the living room in the front. A postage stamp of a kitchen took up one end of that front room. Behind that was a bathroom, a closet and then a bedroom. In this case, being the so called garden apartment, it had a door leading to the back of the property. The furniture was minimal, the kind that was rented with the apartment or found at the nearest thrift store. The kind that was easy to leave behind.

"It looks like she came home, went into the bedroom to change, and he jumped her." Morgan said. "From the mud on the floor he was hiding in the closet."

This was one of the many buildings in DC that backed on to an alleyway. In this case it was tucked into a corner. No other house had a view of that back corner. It would be easy to drag someone out and into a waiting van. Or force them out at gunpoint. Especially if they had never encountered a gun before. What were the chances a librarian had?

"Why can't I feel anything?" Spencer asked. He was so used to the pleasant happiness coming from his counterpart, the gentle ease of the life of a scholar. Now there was nothing at all. Not dead, he thought, please not dead. I can handle anything but dead.

"Agents." A DC Metro cop came up to them. He was holding an evidence bag with a hypodermic needle. "Our guys found it in the garden."

"There's your answer." Emily said. "He drugged her to keep her quiet on the trip. She'll probably sleep until she gets to where they're taking her."

"Which is where?" JJ asked.

"That's what we need to find out." Hotch replied.

"Dorthea Bryant didn't do this." Gideon said.

That stopped everybody. "She confessed." Hotch pointed out.

"I arraigned for one of yours to be locked away." Gideon replied. "She set it up but she's not the one actually holding Dr. Rivers. We have to run victimology as well as looking at Mrs. Bryant, see who would likely be her accomplice."

Victimology. Spencer thought he was going to be sick. He looked around the small, barren living room. There was a comfortable reading chair with Dave Rossi's books on the table next to it, and a small, battered desk in the corner, and that was all. The items on the desk were lovely, fountain pens, elegant accessories, a box full of note cards, all ecru cotton, all with a different design. She was a collector after all.

Maybe if he didn't open the one on his desk she'd come back to write him another.

"I'm going to take Reid back and get him settled." Morgan was saying to the others. Spencer felt his friends hand on his shoulder. "Come on, let's get back."

"I need to help find her." Spencer insisted.

"You will. But not here."

"What do you mean?"

Morgan stopped. His eyes were filled with compassion and dread. "Kid, what do you think is going to happen when she wakes up?"

Spencer felt himself go very cold. She was a _librarian_ for god sake; she didn't know what to do with an Unsub. "We...I..."

"Come on. We need to get you someplace safe before that happens." As Morgan pulled him toward the door his phone rang. "Yeah, baby girl, what have you got for me?"

Penelope was all aflutter. "Okay, you need to get Reid back here right now!"


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

 **BAU Headquarters  
Quantico, VA**

 **December 2005**

 **Spencer**

Spencer stood there staring at the board.

As they had returned to base Morgan had been relaying instructions through Penelope. An office at the end of the hall, currently between occupants, had been cleaned of furniture. Now some safety mats from the gym lay on the floor, a table in the corner held supplies, and there were several white boards up. Or what looked like white boards. "Smart Boards." Penelope said. "What you write here we see in the conference room."

But it wasn't the set-up that had Spencer's attention. It was what was on that board.

Penelope had put a file together for Dr. Rivers.

Dr. _Jeremy_ Rivers.

"I thought the alien virus only matched up opposite sex couples." JJ said

"That's what we all thought." Penelope replied. "But I checked the data, and so far it's looking like fifteen percent are same sex match ups. Doctor Jeremy Rivers." She started reciting off. "Twenty-five, no father on record, mom abandoned him at nine, grew up in the foster care system. Went to Berkley at age sixteen on a state scholarship for foster kids. Got his degree in medieval and renaissance literature with a minor in library systems at nineteen. Spent a year in England as a Rhodes Scholar, ended up with a PhD, also in literature at twenty-two. Currently the head of reader services at the Folger Shakespeare Library here in DC, which as near as I can tell means he's the head of the reference desk. Kind of a middle management thing."

"Something like that." Spencer replied. In the picture, likely taken from the staff website, Jeremy was wearing glasses and a suit that looked more than a little like a private school uniform, right down to the sweater vest and striped tie. But beyond those glasses were these amazing blue eyes, smart and strong and a little shy. He could not stop looking at those eyes.

"Foster kid. That explains his apartment; he's subconsciously ready to move at any time." Emily said from the doorway.

"Prior victimization." Gideon was saying from the other room. "We'll have to take that into account."

"I would definitely peg him for you." Morgan said to Spencer. "Except for the whole male part."

"I don't care." Spencer could not look away from those eyes. But from what he could tell there was quite the handsome young man behind those glasses, slender and fine boned, with a sweet smile and a mop of curls. Likely quite silky curls. But none of it mattered more than those eyes.

"Serious?" Morgan turned to Penelope for confirmation.

And Penelope confirmed. "It's called pansexual. He's been holding out on us." She said.

"Oh great." Morgan shook his head. "Okay, give us some privacy. I will call if I need anything."

"You better." With that Penelope slipped out, closed the door behind her and they were alone.

Morgan looked over at Spencer. "Okay kid, your go bag's over there. Get comfortable." He began looking over the supplied Garcia had put out for them.

"Why? Shouldn't we be working the case?"

"We are." The older man sighed. "Look at Jeremy. Not as his life mate, look at him like he was a victim. What kind of Unsub would be willing to take the risk to get a hold of him?" Spencer looked again. He looked at what could only be described as a pretty, innocent face, with the youthful look of one who's hormones were still catching up, and the slender build, and the lack of anything athletic, and having been a victim before... "Yeah. That's what's coming. Reid." Morgan waited until he had Spencer's attention again. "I've been there."

"You..." Spencer's brain was still stuck on this cannot happen...

"Yeah. And I am walking proof that you can get through this. But we have to get him back first and that means we have to get him to help us."

"How?"

"Telepathy. Remember what happened to JJ? Now get comfortable. It's going to be a long night."

He was right. Spencer closed his eyes, calculated the chance of a miracle.

Then he went to get his clothes from his go bag.

* * *

 **Somewhere else**

 **Jeremy**

Dr. Jeremy Rivers woke in a very strange bed.

For a long moment he lay still, his eyes closed, feeling the world dip and sway around him. He had no clue what time it was, even if it was day or night. The last thing he remembered clearly was getting off work and the brisk walk home through the crisp winter air, so very different from California. He had dim memories of feeling water pouring on him, of feeling like his skin was burning, of deep pain in his belly, of crying for mercy, but he couldn't clearly remember anything. It was all some kind of dream, or more likely nightmare.

Before he opened his eyes he reached out and felt the other presence that had been part of his life ever since he caught that cold on the last Family Day at the library. Dr. Reid felt worried and tired and like he might have been hurt, a dull, aching pain in his belly and over his skin. Which could not be good, would it be wrong to text him to check that he was okay? Or perhaps to call that Garcia woman, just to check? He felt again, and decided it would be acceptable. Just a quick check. So as he usually did he reached to the nightstand and felt for his glasses and phone there.

There were no glasses there.

There was no phone there.

It wasn't his nightstand.

Jeremy opened his eyes and squinted as he looked around the room.

It was a large room, with a large bed in the center and marble topped nightstands and no other furniture. It was white, white paint and white woodwork and a white bed under him and a pale wood floor. There were no covers on the bed, only some kind of sheet that wrapped the thick, soft mattress and pillows that were stitched in place. And his clothes, any clothes, were nowhere to be seen.

Which meant nothing to hide behind.

The room finally stopped swimming long enough for him to try to get up. That was when he noticed the chain that went from his ankle to the bed.

No...

* * *

 **BAU Headquarters  
Quantico, VA**

 **Spencer**

At first Spencer hadn't known what to make of what he was feeling from Jeremy. It had been this confusing jumble of fear and panic, all of it blurry and indistinct. But eventually the reason came to him. "Drugged." He'd said.

"So he can't resist?" Morgan asked.

"Yeah." Spencer focused. "I think he's in a shower."

"Just get down on the mat."

"Why?"

"When Brisco was picking up on Cargill getting beaten we thought he was having a seizure. There's a good chance that will happen here. Now take off your glasses and get down before you fall down."

Spencer got down on the mat. Morgan shut off the overhead fixture so the light wasn't right in Spencer's eyes. Spencer closed them anyway, the better to focus. Which meant that there was nothing between him and the pain that suddenly flared along Jeremy's leg. Spencer yelped from the burning pain, reached down to rub his own calf but it was fine. "This is going to be bad, isn't it?" He'd asked.

Morgan nodded. "Yeah."

* * *

Now all of that was over. Spencer laid on the mat, already worn out, as he felt Jeremy shake off the last of the drugs in his system. He felt his confusion and then his panic, clear and bright, which grew stronger and stronger until... _Goddamn it! No! No! No! No! No!_

Spencer let the reflection of that panic fill him until he could feel something kick over, and... _Jeremy!_

There was confusion now, mixed in with the panic.

 _Jeremy! You're not hearing things. The alien virus, remember? Telepathy?_

 _Dr. Reid?_

 _Yes. You're panicking hard enough to transmit. I can hear you._

 _Help! Please help!_

 _Jeremy we are going to get you out of there. I swear we are going to find you and get you out of there. But we need you to help us do that._

Spencer had expected denial, refusal, panicked babbling pleading. He did not expect the sudden flare of strength and resolve he felt then, strength that did not ameliorate the panic, but that rode beside it. _What can I do?_ Jeremy asked

 _We need you to be our eyes and ears. He thinks you're isolated, that you're alone. If he doesn't know we're communicating he'll make a mistake and we can use that to find him. But only if you see it for us._

 _All right._

 _You can't let him know that we're communicating._

 _I won't._ For a moment the panic flared. _This is going to happen, isn't it?_

Spencer had been focusing on Jeremy, his emotions, his sensations. But now he couldn't stop the wave of heartbreak he himself felt. _Very likely. I'm sorry._

Now mingled with that panic and that strength was a wave of regret so bitter Spencer felt like he could choke on it _. What's your name? I mean your first name?_

 _Spencer._

Spencer felt the stutter in Jeremy's mind just then and perhaps in his heart as well. _I...I expected a woman. I thought..._

 _So did I._ All of a sudden Spencer's mind kicked something new out at him. _But I'm glad of this._ He couldn't stop the wave of love he suddenly felt for this strange, strong, amazing person.

Jeremy felt it too, and it surprised him at first, but then Spencer felt that feeling returned. _Oh_. _Hi._

 _Yeah_. _Hi_.

With that the bitter regret grew. _I'm sorry._

 _Why?_

All of a sudden the panic flared. _There's someone outside the door._

 _Damn it._ Spencer had hoped for more time. _Don't struggle too hard and follow directions, don't give him a reason to lose his temper and hurt you. And repeat everything he says to you back to me._

 _I'll try._

 _Okay._

There was a pause. Spencer could feel how alert Jeremy was. _He just called me a beautiful creature. "What do you mean beautiful creature? Who the hell are you? Let me go!" He told me not to say anything. "Don't say anything? You sent some goon into my house, kidnapped me, drugged me, assaulted me, now you've trapped me here and you think I'm not going to say anything? Look, let me out of here now and I won't say anything to the cops." He's taking his clothes off._

All of a sudden Spencer felt a burning pain in his shoulders and across his back. He instinctively raised his arms to ward off phantom blows. _What was that?_

 _His belt. Owwww! He's angry now. He's insisting I not speak._

 _So keep quiet for now. Are you all right?_

 _See what I made him do. Fucker sounds like my mother. Yeah, I've had worse. He's saying I just need to relax. He knows what I am; He'd freed me from the world. Now I can be what I'm meant to be. The sooner I accept that the better._

 _What does he think you are?_ Spencer felt Jeremy's stomach turn, disgust mix with the anger. _What is that?_

 _He's kissing me, or trying to._ Regret came back, more bitter than before. _I'm not getting out of this, am I?_

 _Likely not. If you fight he'll just get violent, try to overpower you. You'll be at greater risk for injury._ Spencer took a deep breath. _Your safest bet is to not fight. Just remember, you're not alone._

* * *

.

* * *

Casting Note: OK, this is all set before 02x11 "Sex Birth Death" because Anton Yelchin is perfect for Jeremy. He played Nathan Harris.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

 **BAU Headquarters  
Quantico, VA**

 **December 2005**

 **Spencer**

"You all right?" Morgan asked.

Spencer managed to open his eyes and blink at the ceiling. "Yeah." He was slowly coming back to himself, able to differentiate between himself and Jeremy once more. "I could have gone my whole life without experiencing that."

"I hear you. How is he doing?"

"Better than expected so far." Spencer closed his eyes and let the vast wave of anger and pain and regret fill him once more. _Jeremy?_

 _Still here._

Spencer shivered. His counterpart was so sensitive right now that a lazy hand drifting along his spine felt painful. _He's not asleep yet?_

 _Unfortunately no._

 _Is he saying anything?_

The anger grew. _More of that beautiful creature bullcrap. He's talking about training me. He seems to have mistaken me for a poodle._

 _You're not a poodle._

 _No. Irish wolfhound at least._

Spencer managed a flicker of a smile. Jeremy hadn't collapsed in the face of what had happened. He was still strong, still in control of his own mind if nothing else. He had to admire the fortitude there. _How do you feel?_

 _I hurt . A lot. I have no clue how bad the damage is._ Briefly Spencer felt fear rise up over anger. _I'm afraid to twitch right now. I don't want to attract any more attention. That was horrible._

Spencer was only dimly aware of the pain Jeremy was in. That meant a much higher pain tolerance than he had expected. That meant experience in dealing with trauma and pain. _That's probably for the best. Whatever it is we can get it fixed as long as you're alive._

 _I'm gonna hold you to that._

 _Good._ But there was that bitter regret once more. _What's going on? Your emotions are shifting._

 _He's playing with his phone I think. I'm not going to roll over and look. Now he's answering a call. I don't recognize the language._ The regret welled up again.

 _What is it?_

Regret mixed with anger and came out in a rush. _You know this almost happened to me before._

 _Jeremy..._

 _I wanted to save this for someone special. Someone who actually gave a damn about me._

 _Jeremy..._

 _You know, I always loved fairy tales. Myths, legends, all of it. I used to dream of a knight in shining armor coming to rescue me, especially the first time this almost happened. He would get me out of there, make me his squire, let me live in his castle, the whole bit. Then I thought he would rescue me from the kids in the group home when they tried to do this. Granted at that point I was thinking more than squire..._

 _Just..._

 _After a couple of years in the system I grew up enough to realize that there were no rescuers. I worked my ass off to get out of that situation as quickly as I could. I used every educational benefit they offered because it was the only thing that everyone respected. I even got myself all the way to goddammed England. And I thought I did it. Have you seen the inside of the library? It's a fucking castle!_

 _Jeremy, I'm sorry._

 _No, I'm sorry! I screwed up. I let myself believe that I was safe in my castle. I let my guard down._ Spencer had no doubt Jeremy was showing a controlled face on the outside, but on the inside anger and regret mixed with sorrow and he was crying. _I should have known better. I should have been more careful. I wanted to save that as a reward for my..._ There wasn't a word there, but the concept was unmistakable. _Does your mother really call you Percival?_

Spencer felt the heat rising in his cheeks. _She does. I can't wait for you to meet her. And I also firmly believe that you have not lost that yet._

Mental laughter could also be bitter. _I haven't?_

 _No. That can't be taken, it can only be given. If you haven't given it to someone then you still have it. I know that part of you feels very broken right now, but that can heal._

 _Can it?_

 _Yes. I have a close friend who went through a similar experience and he is now very happy with that aspect of his life. If he healed from it then you can as well. Not sure how yet but it can happen_. Now it was Spencer's turn to feel his own butterflies. _Of course I'll help if you want me to._

 _I do._

 _You're that sure?_

 _Now that I know those letters were written by a man, yes._

 _Oh. Well. All right then._ Spencer smiled as he felt it. Through all that bitterness and all that anger and all that pain, there was this small, slowly growing, little warm thread of hope.

But then something else rode over it. Fear and determination and excitement. _He's going into the bathroom._

 _Okay._

 _With his phone. Damn it!_

 _Stay alert for another chance at that._

 _I will._ There was a pause _. I can hear the water running._

 _Okay_. There was a pause and then a flare of physical pain that made Spencer catch his breath. _What are you doing? Whatever you're doing stop it! You're hurting yourself!_

 _Maybe, maybe not._

 _Pain is your body telling you something's wrong!_

 _I know something's wrong. But I don't think I need stitches so it likely won't kill me_. All of a sudden Spencer felt that little thread of hope flare to life. _Bingo!_

 _What is it?_

 _Bastard left his wallet in his pants._

Spencer felt a grin growing. "Write this down." He said to Morgan.

"What is it?"

"Jeremy got the Unsub's driver's license."

* * *

"He has a wife and child." Gideon said of the Unsub. "He won't have his victim at his home. He has him at another location."

"Which is likely held by one of his corporate holdings." Emily replied. "Meaning it's going to take time for Garcia to find it. Is he going to hold out?" She asked in the direction of the phone.

"I think he'll make it." Morgan replied through the intercom. "Both of them are stronger than they look."

* * *

 _Good thing you told me not to fight._

 _Why?_

 _I could have taken the bastard, but not the two men in the hallway._

Spencer swallowed and related that bit of intel to Morgan. _What is he doing?_

Spencer felt Jeremy shiver. _Oh will he stop with the petting like a poodle already!_

 _Mental note, petting is bad._

 _Yeah. Hugs would be great right about now._

 _I can do that._

 _He's leaving._

 _Leaving is good. Maybe he'll take the other two with him._

 _Still chained to the bed here._

 _We can try..._ Spencer felt another flare of fear. _What is it?_

 _Someone new. "Help me, please."_ That was spoken to the new person. _Okay, I don't know what language he's speaking. Oh, hello._ There was a sudden stronger flare of fear. He _has a gun and a hypodermic needle. "No no. Don't drug me. I'll play along"._ There was a pause. _He wants me to go into the bathroom with him._

 _Go. Don't give him an excuse to hurt you._

 _I'll try not to._

* * *

As it turned out the Unsub's assistant was as cruel as his boss was gentle. By the time the assistant was done Jeremy was curled in a little ball of misery on the bed, shivering from cold and pain and fear. Spencer could tell that he still hadn't given up, he was still hanging on, but he was pushed a lot closer to the edge of despair than Spencer liked. _It's going to be okay Jeremy. I promise._

 _So cold._

 _I know._

 _It hurts._

 _I know._

 _I want to go home._

 _We'll get you home._

Jeremy was alone now. Spencer could feel his tears starting. _I don't have a home._

This wasn't just about what was going on now, Spencer realized. This crisis was also opening up old wounds, old pains. Spencer knew that what was commonly called Stockholm Syndrome would be at the end of this mental path. If he didn't feel like he had anything to return to, if he still felt like the abandoned child he had been it would be that easy for Jeremy to give in to the false love the Unsub was offering him, to give in and savor what comfort he could. Spencer needed to get him off that path, and fast. _Yes you do. You have a home with me._

 _Do I?_

 _Yes, you do. When we get you out you're going to the hospital to get checked out and then you're coming back to my condo._

 _I am?_

 _Yes. We'll make it into our castle. Our own safe castle._

 _I'd like that._

 _What's your favorite meal ever?_

 _Mac and cheese. Homemade in the oven. Fried chicken. Blue cheese salad. And pie._

 _What kind of pie?_

 _Apple. Pumpkin. Chocolate cream. Not all together._

 _I will totally make you mac and cheese. We'll get some fried chicken and make some salad. And I'll make all three pies; you can have a slice of each. We'll make a feast of it._

 _So long as I'm not cold anymore. I'm so cold Spencer. I can't stop shaking. And my stomach aches, I think he really messed me up._

 _He probably didn't do any damage, that's muscle pain. That can cause a lot of pain without damage. Once we get you out of there you should recover in a few days. When you get home you won't be cold ever again. Just picture yourself wrapped in a blanket in front of a fire. I'll even hold there if you want._

 _I want. I really want to picture that right now._

 _Please do._

 _I feel so messed up right now._

 _I know. We'll make it better, I swear._

 _So I'm going home after all this?_

 _Yes._

 _Promise?_

 _Yes. Just don't give up._

 _Okay._


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

 **BAU Headquarters  
Quantico, VA**

 **December 2005**

 **JJ**

They were going in to their second night of trying to find Jeremy Rivers. After the Unsubs first assaults were over they decided to take turns spelling, or at least supporting Morgan in sitting with Spencer and keeping track of everything Jeremy fed them through the connection he and Spencer shared. So far Morgan, Emily, Gideon and even Hotch had endured shifts watching Spencer either stare off into space while he and Jeremy talked, catch what rest he could, or worst of all, mirroring Jeremy's suffering. Now it was her turn to go sit with them.

But as she walked in the world around her changed.

 _She was standing in Spencer's white country kitchen. Standing in front of her were two men, one tall and slender with wavy, sandy brown hair that fell limply over his collar. He wore a loose plaid shirt over cords and from the ties around his neck and waist a white apron. The one next to him was shorter and just as slender if not more, with darker brown cropped curls, wore jeans and a white t-shirt, and the same kind of apron ties. They were both doing something at the counter. "Remember," Spencer was saying, "Don't work the dough too much. It'll make the scones tough."_

" _So the butter shouldn't be evenly distributed?" Said a gentle, soft male voice._

" _No, it doesn't have to be." Spence replied. "Walnuts will also work in this recipe, as will chocolate chips, but I like pecans and butterscotch."_

" _Sounds like a great combination."_

 _Somehow, in this dream world, JJ managed to scoot around to see what the two men were doing. Spencer and Jeremy were standing there, making some kind of baked thing, each working on his own pile of ingredients. But as she watched Jeremy's eyes drifted closed and his head nodded forward. "I think I can sleep now." He said._

" _Okay." All of a sudden her perspective shifted. Now they were in Spence's living room, in the great pile of floor pillows, between the couch and the fireplace. Jeremy was curled up in a quilt, practically in Spencer's lap, in Spencer's arms. "Sleep." Spence said. "I'll be right here."_

 _Slowly the vision faded._

When JJ opened her eyes she was sitting down, and Emily was standing over her. "You okay?" She asked quietly.

"Yeah." She said, shaking it off. What the hell was that? What could it be? "I think Spence is broadcasting. He's thinking so hard it's projecting into other transmitters."

"Is that even possible?"

"Look at which brain we're talking about." She looked over at Spencer, who was lying on the mat blinking up at the ceiling. He looked so tired. "I've got him for a while."

"Okay. You need help, call."

"I will." JJ went over and stretched out on the mat next to her friend. "Hey."

"Hey."

"I just saw something strange."

"What?"

"You and Jeremy making pecan butterscotch scones."

Spencer smiled thinly. "It's a technique the military teaches. It was used by POW's in World War II and Vietnam to maintain their mental strength. If you can focus your imagination on a task with enough detail you can shut out pain and hunger for a while, endure captivity for longer."

"So you're imagining things with him?"

"Right now the Unsubs have left him alone. I'm trying to keep his mental fortitude up."

"By teaching him how to cook?"

"He wanted to learn. And it's not torturing him with thinking of food, it's only going to be another day or two." His eyes drifted closed again.

"Spence, you need to sleep."

"I will." He said. He opened his eyes and looked around. "Where are we on the case?"

"Garcia is tracking the Unsubs financials to find either the purchase of the house or some of the equipment they're using. We figure it would have to have been sometime in the past year, at least since Roger Bryant was sent to prison. She'll find it; it's just a matter of time."

"I hope we have time." Spencer said. He pulled a pillow under his head.

"I thought Jeremy was hanging in there."

"He is. But what the secondary Unsub keeps doing to him is hard on the heart. The physical heart. And they haven't been feeding him, which is not helping." Spencer closed his eyes again.

"Is he injured at all?"

"No. The primary Unsub...well..."

"Yeah."

"But the secondary Unsub hasn't had any violent contact with him at all. It's amazing what lack of good sleep, lack of food, humiliation and a lot of cold water can do without leaving a single mark."

"What do they want?"

"They want him to act like he loves the primary Unsub, to fulfill the fantasy that the primary rescued him from his mundane life and is setting his true personality free."

"His true personality?"

"Something less than human but more than animal. Non-verbal and entirely sensual. The Unsub keeps referring to him as a 'beautiful creature' and beat him the one time he tried to talk."

"Lovely."

"The secondary is using abusive treatment to break him into that. He's the...the stick to the primary's carrot. They keep promising that if he just gives in it will all stop and he'll have all the comfort he wants."

"What is the secondary getting from this?"

"I suspect a target for his sadistic desires and a paycheck."

"Hired stooge. Makes sense. Jeremy's not giving in?"

"No. He's a lot stronger than he looks on paper. But I think the shared vision is helping him with that."

"It likely is. Couldn't he just play along until we get there?"

"I'm not certain he would mentally survive that. I suspect this is playing in to some issues he still has from childhood. They are promising him love and comfort and a home."

"Abandoned by his family, grew up in the system, I can see that being tempting. But they don't know that he can also get all of that from you."

"Exactly."

"So what have you two made so far?"

"Mac and cheese casserole, apple pie, pumpkin pie, chocolate cream pie, raspberry muffins and now we're working on scones. We might try bread next." He smiled. "I like baking bread. But he really likes pie."

"Couldn't you cook something healthy?"

"Healthy is overrated. I tried reading stories but it wasn't distracting enough. Baking engages more senses." Spencer smiled. "He's finally asleep."

"You should sleep too."

"Mmm-hmm..."

JJ watched as Spencer drifted to sleep in front of her. Then she pulled up the blanket and moved to the chair at the far side of the room. Penelope had set up a laptop there for people to use when Spencer and Jeremy were sleeping.

JJ had an idea.

"Maybe I can't cook." She muttered to herself. "But I can do takeout like a goddess."

* * *

 **Spencer**

 _I don't want to._

It was only a couple of hours later. Jeremy had woken from nightmares. The realization that he was still captive had powered those transmitters right back to full charge. And that had woken Spencer. _You might have to._

 _I don't want to give them that._

 _You're not._

 _It would feel like I am._

 _I know. But you're getting weaker; you need to go there to survive. If you're worried about me, don't. I would never hold it against you._

Spencer could feel Jeremy's tears starting to fall. _I know. I just wanted it to be real, you know?_

 _It will be, I promise. We're getting closer. We will get you out of there._

There was nothing for a long moment. Then... _It will be, huh?_

If there was one thing Spencer always wanted it was love. He loved people so hard and so deeply, so much so that they never understood, that they never understood how cruel it was to leave. But now Jeremy could feel just how much was there, all the love he ever wanted or needed. _Yeah, it will be._

 _No matter what?_

 _No matter what._

 _Okay, what do I have to do?_


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 16**

 **BAU Headquarters  
Quantico, VA**

 **December 2005**

 **Spencer**

Thirty-six hours.

Spencer didn't know how Jeremy was hanging on. Indulging the Unsubs fantasy had so far prevented another molestation, another rape, but now there was something new going on. Spencer hissed as he felt a sharp pain over his eye. But it wasn't his, it was Jeremy's. _Owwww!_

 _At least they're being very sanitary. And piercings can come out and heal without much scarring. We can have a doctor be sure of that. Unless you want to keep them._

 _No thank you. I have nothing against body art but it is just not my thing. Oh fuck, not my nose!_

 _Septum?_

 _No, the side._

 _This shouldn't be that bad._

There was a pause, then a sharp pain. _Owww!_

Spencer's eyes were running from the empathetic pain. _Not my thing either._

 _For you? Or you don't want a diamond encrusted creature to play with._

 _Both thanks. Is that cleaning solution? Is he really using diamonds?_

 _Yes. It looks like both sides of my lower lip are next. What are the chances of them going lower?_

 _Unfortunately good. He wants something that doesn't look quite human._

 _Yeah, well, he's getting that. Oh shit, here we go._

Just as Spencer winced away from the sharp pain in his mouth he heard Morgan hang up the phone. "Kid." He said. "We've got the address, we're going. Baby girl is going to sit with you."

"I'm going with you."

"Reid, you haven't slept. Garcia will bring you to the hospital when we're on our way."

"I. Am going. With you."

 _What's that? What just happened?_

 _I'll tell you in a little bit._

* * *

 **Outside Potomac, MD**

Hotch made him hang back. "You're not on this case." He said. "If anyone asks you're a family member."

But that just meant that Morgan went in first. They found the primary in the kitchen, draining a bottle of water, likely to rehydrate himself after his recent romp, and talking on the phone. Thankfully they had him and his two bodyguards by surprise. A wheeler dealer business type with too much money and too much power and a law degree.

"He's mine, you know." He said to Hotch with a confident smile.

"No, he's not." Hotch replied.

"He's here of his own free will. Ask him."

Morgan lead the second team further into the large, empty house. "Where kid?" He asked.

"Upstairs." Spencer replied through gritted teeth. Jeremy was just going into the last hour of this cycle and he was not doing well. Spencer had been fighting off debilitating stomach cramps for the past hour on top of the pain from the fresh piercings. Pretending to give in to the primary's demands hadn't softened the treatment from the secondary one bit.

As they started up the stairs they heard the screaming start. Spencer hissed as his skin started to burn.

Spencer hung back and let Morgan and the others go in first. There was the expected yelling, the cursing, the noisy sound of the secondary Unsub being taken, and over all of it the screaming. It took nearly everything Spencer had not to push the SWAT team out of the way and find the source. But it was only moments before the bustle of the arrest started slacking off. "Reid!" Morgan called out.

Spencer ran. The large, opulent bathroom in what had to be the master suite had a giant shower alcove. Shower heads were mounted on every wall. They could fill the space with a strong, almost needle sharp spray. It would be a decadent sensation when used as intended, like walking into a strong, warm rainstorm. But with snow three feet deep outside if the water was turned to full cold it would be torture.

Practically hanging from cuffed wrists in the center of the space was a man. He didn't quite look human, slender and light and long limbed, with bits of golden metal and jewels distorting his features and with his skin so pale from the cold it was faintly blue. Spencer quickly wrapped Jeremy in a towel as Morgan got him down. Jeremy leaned heavily against him, shivering as he tried desperately to get warm. This had not been the only use of cold water this day, his core body temperature was dangerously low, borderline hypothermic. "You're going to be okay." Spencer said. "We'll get you warm."

Jeremy turned to look at him with wide, constricted eyes. "I thought you were a voice in my head." He said.

"Mom calls me Percival for a reason." He replied. Yes, this was a rescue. He held the younger man close to him and looked over at the other men in the room. "Medic?"

"On their way in." Morgan replied.

Spencer landed on the floor of the bathroom, with Jeremy all but falling into his lap. He put a hand on the younger man's abdomen; carefully avoiding the glittering jewels embedded in his skin, and tried to rub some of the lingering soreness away. "Hurts." Jeremy murmured.

"I know. You'll be okay."

"Take me home?"

"Hospital first, but then yeah, we're going home." Jeremy sighed and closed his eyes and rested heavily against Spencer's shoulder. That was all right, Spencer had no desire to go anywhere. But the medics were coming up the stairs. "He's still shivering." He said to the medics.

"Good. Let's not move him just yet." The lead medic replied. He placed the oxygen mask over Jeremy's face while they worked.

Spencer nodded. Hypothermic patients were at a high risk of sudden cardiac arrest. Gentle handling until Jeremy was warmer would help avoid that. So he ever so carefully helped wrap a thick, warm blanket around the young man in his lap and tucked hot packs in next to his skin. He couldn't help but smile a little as Jeremy groaned and started to relax as his body started to warm again. But his heart was still beating too fast...

"I'm telling you, he's mine!" The Unsub must have broken free of the agents downstairs, now he came running up and into the room where they were working. "Tell them you're mine!" He ordered even as Morgan moved to subdue him.

Jeremy opened his eyes and pulled the oxygen mask off but otherwise didn't move. "I am not yours you son-of-a..." For the next five solid minutes Jeremy cursed the Unsub heavily and thoroughly, so much so that seasoned law enforcement officers were blinking from some of the language. It quickly became apparent that while he might be slight and appeared delicate he had remarkable levels of endurance and fortitude and a mouth that would make a sailor blush.

Which thoroughly shocked the Unsub. He too had likely been fooled by the proper, polite librarian. "But...But you're mine!"

"He was never yours." Gideon pointed out in that calm, overwhelming way of his. "Are you familiar with the alien virus?" He waited until the Unsubs micro expressions changed, indicating that he knew... "Yes, Dr. Reid has been in communication with Dr. Rivers this entire time."

Spencer knew he shouldn't say anything, he should leave this up to Hotch and Gideon, he should just keep his mouth shut. But this was personal, he couldn't help it. "You really call that foreplay?" He asked the Unsub.

The Unsub's jaw dropped. "No! This is not possible! Dorthea's men were following him for months, they would have told me!...She...She told me he was alone, he needed someone to look after him, to keep him safe. I saw she was right, I..."

"Which answers that question." Gideon said.

"Get him out of here." Hotch replied to the others.

Spencer watched as the Unsub was hustled away. He no longer mattered. What mattered was that Jeremy was starting to feel very relaxed and comfortable. "What did you give him?" He asked the medics as he put the mask back over Jeremy's face.

"Warm fluids and glucose." The medic replied. "Everything else can hold until we get to the ER."

"...feels wonderful..." Jeremy murmured behind the mask.

"His pulse is stronger. Let's bundle him up and move him."

Spencer helped shift Jeremy on to the gurney but when he stood up the world dipped and spun a bit. Of course the team was immediately there. "Uhhh, when was the last time you slept?" Emily asked.

"Or ate anything?" JJ asked in reply.

"Ummm..." Spencer couldn't come up with a good answer to either question.

The medic took his arm. "Know what? Let's move you too."

* * *

 **Washington Medical Center  
Washington DC**

 **December 2005**

"I hold Dr. Reid's power of attorney." Hotch asked when the doctor came out into the waiting room. "What's wrong?"

"Exhaustion and mild dehydration. He should be fine by morning. I'd send him home but with them both having an active case of alien virus it would be better for him to stay with Dr. Rivers."

"Can you tell us what happened with Dr. Rivers?" Morgan asked. "In general."

"Reid is the closest thing he has to next-of-kin." Gideon added. "We already know the rape kit will be positive."

The doctor sighed. "Mild hypothermia and pretty severe hypoglycemia. Also some intestinal issues. Nothing that won't resolve in a few days. I'm keeping him overnight for observation but I'd like him to check back in in a day or two. Psychologically..."

"We can help them work with that." Hotch replied.

* * *

"Are you going to be okay here?" Penelope asked.

"Oh yeah." Morgan replied. "We're going to have a guard at the door, just in case anyone else in the Bryant family gets any ideas. I just don't want to leave my little brothers alone tonight."

"Brothers?"

He grinned. "Oh come on."

"No no, I agree." She kissed his cheek. "Call if you need?"

"I will momma." Morgan watched her go and then stepped into the hospital room. Spencer was snoring lightly in the near bed with one IV going, which would rehydrate him nicely. Jeremy had a few more things going, but he was snugged under a pile of blankets in the far bed, out like a light.

There was a recliner for visitors in the room. Morgan slipped off his own shoes, fetched a blanket, and made himself reasonably comfortable. The room was quiet, both of his brothers were tucked in, safe and warm...

Everything was exactly as it should be.

* * *

Sometime in the middle of the night Spencer got up to find the bathroom. On the way back he noticed a pair of eyes open. "Hi." He whispered.

"Hi." Jeremy replied. He scooted back in invitation.

Spencer accepted, sitting on the edge of the bed, then reading Jeremy's intention and lying down beside him. Instantly the younger man pressed against him, insisting on being held. "You should sleep more." Spencer murmured.

"Mmm-hmm." Jeremy buried his head into Spencer's chest. "You know, in all of those stories they never tell you what happened at the evil king's castle before the hero gets there."

"They never tell you how long it takes to get to happily ever after." Spencer replied. "But they always get there."

"Promise?"

"Yeah."

Spencer held his love as his tears soaked his shirt, and they both slowly drifted to sleep.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

 **Washington Medical Center  
Washington DC**

 **December 2005**

The next morning Penelope arrived to find Morgan in Spencer's bed. She wafted the scent of the coffee in her hands at him to wake him up. "Where's Spencer?" She asked when he was in a sitting position. Morgan indicated the curtain behind him so Penelope peeked. "Aww, just like a couple of puppies."

"Yeah, I know. Wish he would have told me he wasn't using the bed though. I got a crick in my neck from that chair."

"Oh, whine later. Get up so we can get moving and get them home." She peeked behind the curtain again. "Reid? Speennnccerrr? You awake?" She gently poked his shoulder.

He flinched away and curled even tighter around Jeremy. "Mmmm, no."

"Come on, you can sleep more when you get home."

* * *

Sleeping more sounded like a heavenly delight to Spencer. As did having Jeremy in a bigger bed. Not like that, just to sleep like this, close enough to know that he was entirely all right the whole night through.

Jeremy was entirely all right, at least in the short term. Ever since Spencer had tucked in with him he'd slept soundly. Now he had to get up though. And Spencer wanted waking to be gentle and kind, so he murmured and kissed his forehead and gently jostled him until he woke. "Oh." Jeremy said. "You're real."

"Yes." Odds were Jeremy had lost yesterday. Shock and trauma could cause transitory amnesia. He didn't miss much. "You're safe."

"Oh." Spencer could feel Jeremy holding back, his uncertainty, even some embarrassment. He was even physically holding back, pressing himself against the side rail of the bed, putting as much space between them as he could. Before he realized what he was doing he thought. _It's okay._

Jeremy's eyes widened. Ho _w are we still doing this?_

 _I don't know. Maybe we did it for so long our minds learned how. Anyway, it's okay, what you're thinking. At least what I think you're thinking._

 _Sure?_

 _Yes. I enjoy it, and I know you wanted to do that whole rescue/squire thing..._

Spencer couldn't help but laugh as Jeremy gave in and pressed up into his arms so hard he almost threw himself at him. _Yesssss..._

Oh heavens, it felt so good just to hold and be held that tightly. _I agree._

"I hear that laughing over there." Penelope said. "Want me to go tell the nurse you two are awake so we can get out of here?"

Spencer felt Jeremy's sudden...it could only be called a spurt of fear. _It's okay, that's Penelope. My team is like my family, she's like my sister._

And along with fear he could fear Jeremy's doubt. _Family?_

 _Yes, and they are going to love you. I swear, this time around it will be okay to be the kid brother._

 _I hope so._

"Please do, Penelope."

"Okay then."

They heard the door close. Jeremy sat up. "Family, huh?"

Spencer nodded. "I'm going to guess that you have issues with the concept of family."

"A few. Well, a lot."

"Just give them a chance."

Jeremy cocked his head. "You really love them don't you?"

"I do."

He thought about it for a moment, and nodded. "All right then." He looked down at the gown he was wearing and sighed. "I wonder if they'll let me go home in this. Or at least borrow a sheet."

"Or we'll ask Penelope to go to your apartment and pack a bag."

"She'd do that?" Jeremy asked.

"Yeah, she would."

"Oh, um, okay."

"You have a family now." Spencer smiled and pulled Jeremy back down. "It's going to be wonderful."

* * *

The hospital was a bit of a distance from both apartments, so Emily stopped on her way in. "You're all packed." She said as she walked in the door. "Two more suitcases and I could have had you moved out."

"I like traveling light." Jeremy replied from behind the curtain.

There were more than two bodies back there. "What's going on?" Emily asked Morgan.

"Turned out all that body jewelry was courtesy of the Unsub." He replied. "Little brother wants all of it out, which is good because it's all evidence."

"Oh good. Honestly, it did make you look kind of garish." Emily said in Jeremy's direction.

"Yeah, not into the beautiful creature look." Jeremy replied. "Ow. No, there's only one thing I want on my face. Did you find my spare glasses?"

"I did. Top right desk drawer in the back, just where you said they would be." The nurse opened the curtain, revealing Spencer sitting on the windowsill and Jeremy sitting in bed, looking very much less like some alien creature and very much more like a boyish academic. Emily slid the simple round glasses on his face and the look was complete.

"I can see." Jeremy opened his eyes and beamed. "Thank you so much. This was a huge help."

"Sure. No problem."

"I'm, um, going to go get changed."

"Oh, we'll step out." Emily shooed Morgan and Penelope out with her.

"Um, you can stay." Jeremy said to Spencer.

They were walking a fine line between things here. Spencer smiled at him. "You should have your privacy."

"Um, I'd kinda rather you stayed."

"Okay then."

But Jeremy did draw the curtain around the far side of the room. "I, um, got enough stuff for a few days." He said as he started getting dressed. "I kind of assumed..."

"I hoped you would be staying with me." Spencer replied. "I've been kind of planning it."

"Um, in your guest room or..."

"That...wasn't what I was thinking."

Jeremy was quiet a moment. "You know, after all this there's a lot of..."

"It's okay."

"I mean I am not ready..."

"Jeremy, it's okay. I'm not in any rush. It's just...if you want, when you're ready, just let me know. Or not. Right now it's however you want to sleep."

"I want to sleep like we did last night."

"Then we will and no more than that."

"Really?" He sounded so eager, so like he wanted to believe.

"What do you feel?" Likely Jeremy could feel that he was being honest here.

"Safest around you. Okay then." Jeremy pulled back the curtain.

Turned out that unlike Spencer he actually owned things like t-shirts and jeans and beat up work boots and managed to look reasonably good in them. He started bundling up for the world outside. Sweatshirt. Jacket. Gloves. Hat. He was starting to look like some kind of street urchin, at least five years younger than his actual age, maybe more. "Do I really need all of this? He asked.

"After hypothermia people are more sensitive to cold, more at risk of a relapse." Spencer replied. "And it is actively snowing outside."

Jeremy shuddered and twined a scarf around his neck. "I really like snow. But not right now."

"Agreed."

There was a knock and the team there trooped back in. "Ravenclaw?" Penelope asked, indicating Jeremy's scarf.

Jeremy flared bright red. "Um, yeah..."

His discomfort was easy to see. "Oh, nice." She replied with a smile.

 _What is it?_ Spencer asked him.

 _I made it while I was living in England._

 _You can say that. My friends are okay with it._

 _Really?_

 _Try and see._

"I, um, made it while I was in England." Jeremy tentatively said to Penelope.

"Really?" Penelope beamed. "He's making a Dr. Who scarf." She nodded to Spencer.

Spencer felt Jeremy's sudden surprise. "Really? Those things are huge."

"It's going to take a while to finish it."

"Good. I'll have time to make you a Gryffindor."

"I'm not even sure what that means." Spencer said.

By now Morgan and Emily were gently laughing at them. "Yeah, most people would peg you for Ravenclaw." Emily said. "But you really are the male Hermione Grainger."

"Is he really?" Jeremy said. He pulled a knitted cap over his head and the transformation to urchin was complete.

"Oh just wait." Emily replied with a smile.

Morgan shook his head. "Let's get out of here before we all start nerding out in public."


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 10**

 **Logan School Condos  
Apt #13  
Washington DC**

 **December, 2005**

Jeremy was either more sensitive than even Spencer had considered or else it was psychosomatic, but on their way out of the hospital he started shivering. Thankfully Spencer had both of his coats with him, just in case. He bundled Jeremy into one, which was way too long but it seemed to help.

They got to the building just in time to see JJ and Will leaving. "Aw, damn it!" JJ said when she saw them.

"What?" Spencer asked.

"I was...we were...um..."

Penelope grinned. "They were elfing."

"Elfing?" Spencer asked.

"It was her idea." Will replied. "I was just here to carry boxes."

"Thanks for backing me up!" JJ replied to him with a grin, swatting at him lightly.

"Elfing?" Spencer asked again.

"You will see when you get in there." Penelope replied. "Now unless you two need something we are going to go and let you settle in." She pulled Spencer into a hug first, then turned to Jeremy. "Do you like hugs?"

"I love hugs." Jeremy replied.

So there were hugs all around and then the team took their leave. Spencer let Jeremy in to his apartment, locked the door, set the security system, and hung up his coat. As Jeremy started pulling off layers he went to see what they had done. There was nothing in the living room. Nothing in the dining room...

In the kitchen Jeremy caught up with him. He took one look and his jaw dropped. "Did we...did we really do this?"

Sitting on the counter was an apple pie, a basket of raspberry muffins, and a crusty loaf of bread. Through the open door of the fridge you could see a chocolate cream pie, a pumpkin pie and a tray of macaroni and cheese waiting to be reheated in the oven. And the crock-pot was giving off steam that suspiciously smelled like ham and bean soup. All the things they had cooked in their combined imagination while Jeremy was trying to survive. For a moment it all felt very real, but Spencer had to tell the truth. "No." He replied. "It was elves." He held up the note in his hands. "They couldn't find pecan butterscotch scones so they left pecans and butterscotch chips. They also left Christmas decorations in the guest loft if we want to put them up later."

By now Jeremy was grinning. "Your friends really did this for us?"

"Yeah. They're like that."

"That's amazing. I just... I never."

"Yeah." Spencer could tell Jeremy had never felt this welcomed before. But it was good. It was very good. "Hungry?" That soup smelled like it was pretty much ready.

Spencer felt Jeremy's good mood turn to embarrassment. "Um, actually, can I get a shower first?"

"Sure." Oh, of course. He hadn't had more than a cursory clean-up at the hospital. Knowing what Spencer knew about victims, and Jeremy was still on that edge between victim and survivor, he wanted to scrub and scrub to get the real or imagined scent of the Unsubs off his skin. "Down the hall to the right. The master bedroom is on the left, the bathroom on the left and the library at the end of the hall."

Jeremy had already been heading out, but now he turned back. "Library?"

"Yeah. Help yourself. I, um, use the loft above it for an office, in case I bring work home. You're welcome, of course, but sometimes I put case photos up on the board in there..."

Jeremy smiled. "Right. Avoid your office. Got it."

"If you need any toiletries check under the sink."

"Okay." And with that he was off.

Spencer settled out everything in the kitchen. They would start with bean soup and fresh bread, and some pie. Apple would go well with it, as would pumpkin. The muffins would go well with breakfast, and tomorrow there would be mac and cheese and the chocolate pie. He might pick up some fried chicken as well, make a salad. All of Jeremy's favorites, just because.

That settled he went back out to find those Christmas decorations. Jeremy had left a couple of bags in the living room, a leather satchel with books and notebooks and a basket with yarn things, both tucked in by the sofa like they belonged there. They did belong there, Spencer realized. They looked just right next to his satchel and basket there. Exactly as it should be.

As he went up to poke through the decorations, and eyeball the guest loft to see if a second office could be put in there, he became aware of a growing disquiet, a combination of fear and embarrassment and anger at self that he couldn't quite put a finger on. It wasn't him, there was no reason for it, so he took a deep breath, let it out, and after a moment headed for the bathroom. There he found Jeremy, minus only his shoes, sitting on the closed toilet, staring at the big, glassed-in shower. "What is it?" He asked.

Jeremy sighed. "You know, intellectually I know that the door is locked and the security system is on and you probably have a huge hot water tank..."

But he was scared. Spencer could understand that. And he didn't have to think long for a possible solution. "Wait here." He went and collected all the candles he could find, came back and lit them around the room. Then he turned off the lights.

"What are you doing?"

"It's the opposite of the room you were in. It's psychologically warmer and safer, with a closed in, sheltered feeling. And with the dim light if we take off our glasses neither of us is going to be able to see all that much." He would have told Jeremy to speak up if he became uncomfortable, but Spencer would likely know before Jeremy realized it.

"Okay, but what are you doing?"

Spencer turned on the water in the shower so it would start to heat. "Well, I'm supposed to be the knight of the house, right?" Jeremy nodded so Spencer continued as he toed off his sneakers. "So it's my job to protect you. Even against cold water."

* * *

Spencer had an L-shaped couch in his living room. Later that night he was stretched out on the long side, his feet toward the fire, idly reading a book he'd read before. Jeremy, his stomach full and his body clean, had wrapped up in a quilt on the short side to read with him but had quickly fallen asleep with his head pillowed on Spencer's thigh. Spencer was not complaining about this arraignment at all.

No, they had not gone there. Jeremy wasn't comfortable with the idea and likely wouldn't be without time and therapy. But Spencer privately thought that anyone who believed that love-making required the use of genitals needed to expand their horizons. He had a companion now, an intimate partner. The only thing that could have made this sweeter was if the Unsubs had never been involved. But life had never been perfect, only good.

Which was why he did what he did after his phone rang. "This is Dr. Reid." He said quietly.

"Oh my god, Spencer!" JJ said. "Turn on your TV!"

Spencer turned it on and found a special news report going. An alien ship had been spotted over DC. Apparently it was hit by lightning and had decloaked. "Oh. You know they don't mean us any harm."

"I know, but you have the strongest mind I know and they did give us a gift."

Of course. Spencer agreed and hung up the phone. Gather your thoughts, they had said. Focus the emotions connected to them. Build them as strongly as you can and then let it go. Push it to the receiver in one giant rush...

Spencer concentrated and focused and when he was ready sent a giant push to that ship up in the sky.

 _ **Thank You**_

As he watched a light on the side blinked, and the ship disappeared into the vastness of space.

* * *

.

* * *

And so we come to the end of this short one. Much thanks to P for her feedback through the writing process.

I'm going back to Percival's Dominatrix on AO3, but it is epic length and so I might want/need another distraction. I'n not supposed to ask what else you might want to see Spencer and Jeremy do, what other adventures you might want them to have, anything like that here, but I can over there. Link info at the top of my profile.


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